


Wouldn't It Be Nice

by pinkskies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Asexual Character, F/M, Homosexuality, Lots of dancing, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Trans Character, Transitioning, a boy who boyishly doesn't quite get the hint, a girl very excited to get her vagina, lame references to eighties pop and art history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5737756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkskies/pseuds/pinkskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis goes to pride for the first time and meets a trans girl named Harry, who goes a little too hard and crashes on Louis’ sofa for the night. When he wakes up, she’s gone, and Louis doesn’t expect to ever see her again. Except he does. </p><p>alternatively; Louis gets a job at a diner to pay for college, doesn't have a clue how to tell his parents that he’s asexual, and is almost positive Harry keeps accidentally running into him on purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wouldn't It Be Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not take this fictionalised work to portray how all transgender people or asexual people feel/live their lives.
> 
> In general, this is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes. This is not meant to reflect my personal beliefs and opinions. This is not real. I do not own One Direction or any of their counterparts. 
> 
> Shoutout to my beta, [Alice](http://asexualfitz.tumblr.com) for putting up with my incessant procrastination and never ending questions. She is lovely and amazing, and so very helpful. This story would probably have ended in disaster if it wasn't for her. Also thank you to [John](http://footieau.tumblr.com) for helping me put this idea together! He's the laziest cheerleader I've ever had.

**Wouldn’t It Be Nice**

  
  


“I don’t know if I should be going,” Louis tries to reason with his best friend, but he simply will not have it. 

“Look, Tomlinson. I love you. But, shut the fuck up.” Zayn looks over his shoulder, one eyelid painted with the gold glitter Louis found for him at the shopping centre. “You’re going.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You’re the goddamn A. You’re fucking going, and you’re networking, and you’re having fun.” 

“Do I have to put glitter on any part of my body?” In all of his life, Louis never thought that'd be a question he would need to ask. The longer he’s friends with Zayn, the weirder his guidelines for going out become. Just last week, Louis had to make Zayn promise that he wouldn't bring home another pair of metallic knickers for him to try on.  _ Another _ .

“No,” Zayn laughs, finishing up his right eye and reaching for the gold mascara Louis also found on his ventures. “Unless you want to?”

“I’ll just stick to wearing purple, thanks.” 

“Don't be a drag, Lou. Paint your face with the flag, at least.” Zayn finishes his eye makeup and moves away from the mirror. “How’s it look? Fucking cool, right?”

“Incredibly homosexual, actually.”

“That’s what I was going for,” Zayn grins and tosses Louis a tube of mascara. “For you.”

“What?” Louis spins it in his hand to look at the label.  _ Plum _ . “Are you fucking joking?”

His best friend laughs loudly, clapping his hands together as he leaves Louis’ bedroom. “Happy Pride!”

  
  


/

  
  


Louis hasn’t seen this many half naked people since his sister’s husband dragged him to a strip club, and he hid out in the loo for a majority of the night. Everywhere he looks there’s another woman with her nipples taped, another man with his chest painted rainbow. No one looks presentable, but everyone is having fun, and Louis is pretty certain that he’ll be cleaning glitter out of his clothes for years to come. Zayn is having a ball throwing the glitter in Louis’ face and pointing out homemade signs and flags, noting that the inappropriate ones are his personal favourites. 

“Everybody looks gay, Zayn.”

“It’s amazing,” he gives Louis a look. “Almost like we're at Pride or something.”

“No, I mean like, where are the aces?”

“They’re invisible.”

“Your jokes aren't helping,” Louis frowns, stepping to the side so that he doesn't get in the way of a drag queen rushing through the crowd. “I wonder where she’s going.”

“Probably a float or maybe she’s helping out at a booth,” Zayn muses, looking around. “Liam said he would meet us, but I don’t know how we’re going to find him.”

Louis hums a response, only half listening. His attention is grabbed by a large asexual pride flag further down the street. He points to it excitedly, “Text him, and tell him to meet us by the giant ace flag.” 

There are loud cheers coming from their left, and Louis is momentarily distracted, curious as to what is going on. Zayn turns to look too, both of them smiling when they see that a group of bi people, covered from head to toe in magenta and blue, have started a dance circle on the pavement. Louis considers walking that way instead, but decides against it, figuring that meeting more people like him would help him feel less crazy. He rubs a finger over his black ring and motions Zayn to hurry up before the crowd overwhelms them again and it becomes impossible to cross the tarmac. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Zayn huffs. “Calm the fuck down, we have all day.” 

He’s never met another person who identifies as asexual before, and the closer they get to the flag, the more butterflies appear in Louis’ stomach. He’s not sure whether he’s going to explode from excitement or vomit from fear. “What if they say—” 

“If you’re about to have another goddamn breakdown I’m gonna leave you here by yourself,” Zayn warns. “How many times do we have to go over this?” 

“Just one more time. I need the pep talk; I think I’m going to be sick,” Louis holds his stomach as Zayn latches onto his shoulders and shakes him around a bit.

“You don’t have to be aromantic to be asexual. Okay? Most aren’t. You can be pan, and to be fucking honest, you can label yourself a mermaid for all I fucking care. You get to call yourself whatever you want. If the arseholes don’t like it, then that’s their own fault for being judgmental twats, and you will not kill yourself with worry because of it. It isn’t worth it. Be your goddamn self, and wave whatever flags you want to. Got it?” He finishes his speech by sending another cloud of glitter into Louis’ face.

“That was a little harsher than usual,” he coughs on the bits that got into his mouth.

“I swear to God, I am best friends with a four year old.” Zayn lets go of Louis’ shoulders and nods his head toward the flag. “Let’s just get over there.” 

Louis nods and the pair weave their way through the busy street. Everyone around them has a smile on their face, and Louis can’t help but swell with happiness at the thought of everyone here together celebrating. It’s hectic and sweaty, and there’s a lot of shouting to be heard over music that’s blaring, but seeing the ocean of colours— rainbow, baby blue, magenta— makes the craziness worth it. It reminds him of Leonid Afremov's ‘Night Cafe’, almost. Perhaps if Afremov had painted the daytime.

It takes a few minutes to get across the tarmac, and Louis feels like he’s in a real-life version of  _ Frogger.  _ There’s a large canopy beside the flag where a group of men and women, decked out in various shades of purple, are standing around and chatting. 

“Look at that. Your people doing what they do best,” Zayn smirks. “Not having sex.” 

“You can make those jokes around me, and you know that. But I wouldn’t suggest making them around these guys,” Louis warns his best mate. “You never know who you’ll piss off.” 

“I will refrain from any ace related humour starting now,” he promises, holding up the Boy Scouts’ honor symbol.

“Were you actually in Boy Scouts?” 

“Never.” 

“You’re insufferable, I swear to God,” Louis sighs. “Put your glitter away while I talk with them.” 

The pair make their way over to the canopy to find tables set up with various informative brochures and a basket of those silicon bracelets Louis remembers being obsessed with when he was younger, only these are bright purple and read ASEXY. Shaking his head at the embarrassing, albeit endearing pun, Louis decides to not take one for himself. Zayn isn’t having it. “Come on, you need one of these.”

“No thanks.”

“You’re a fucking arse today,” Zayn grumbles lowly, putting the bracelet back in the basket. “I would say you need to get laid, but,  _ well _ .” 

Louis shoves Zayn’s shoulder, giving him his best death stare. “Stop with the jokes, for fuck’s sake! You’re going to get us banned from this booth.” 

“Hello, boys!” an older woman, possibly in her late sixties, appears behind the table, smiling widely. “Did you get bracelets?”

“Erm, no,” Louis smiles back. “We didn’t.”

“Do you two identify as ace?” she asks, grabbing two bracelets out of the basket and handing one to each of them. Zayn fields this question.

“I’m not ace, but Louis is.”

“Fantastic. It’s always wonderful to meet another one,” she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “How long have you known, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t mind,” Louis grins, slipping the purple bracelet over his hand and onto his wrist. “I learned the term a little less than a year ago, but I’ve always known, I guess.”

“Isn’t knowing there’s a word for you the most amazing feeling? I remember back in the seventies when I read my first article on asexuality. It felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders,” she nods as she speaks. “I couldn’t wait to tell everyone that not wanting a boyfriend didn’t make me crazy.” 

“Well, I actually would like a relationship,” Louis says slowly, worried this kind lady would frown at him. “I’m not aromantic. Just asexual.”

“Liam!” Zayn half-shouts in his ear as he rushes to greet his boyfriend, startling Louis.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry for presuming,” the woman looks apologetic, and Louis smiles at her. “I hope you find someone who loves you for you, then.”

“Me too,” he says.

She picks up a brochure from off the table and gives it to Louis. “Here’s some contact information for various organisations in the city and just around England in general if you want to talk to someone.”

“Tha—”

“Hey, Lou,” Zayn interrupts them. “Liam and I are going to head over to where the parade starts. You staying here?”

Louis looks between his friends and the older woman, not wanting to seem rude for leaving, but also not wanting to lose his friends in the crowd. Before he can decide, the booth worker waves him along, “Go on with your mates. Have fun! It was lovely to meet you, Louis.”

“You as well,” he waves goodbye and sidles up beside Zayn.

“Congratulations on meeting another asexual!” Glitter clouds his vision for the umptenth time today, and his best friend snickers. “What did I tell you? They don’t care if you aren’t aromantic.”

“You were right,” Louis sighs, admitting it.

“As per usual.” Zayn throws more gold glitter at him, and Louis is going to shove the large cannister of it up Zayn’s arse if he doesn’t quit.

“Liam, control him,” he pleads with his other friend, who laughs.

“Tried that once. Ended terribly.”

Despite being annoyed, Louis laughs, and the three of them begin their trek to the start of the march. Even though Zayn makes them stop at a booth giving out free condoms (“It would be foolish to not support safe sex,” he explains. Louis just gives him a disgusted look.), the group arrives at their destination relatively quickly. Zayn has given up his glitter escapades and has taken to, once again, pointing out silly signage. Louis ignores him for the most part, leaving Liam to handle his boyfriend on his own. He’s more interested in the people walking around than the signs they’re holding, anyway. 

People of all ages are celebrating today. There’s a group of young teenagers under an awning Snapchatting themselves and laughing; there’s a brunette couple in tye-dye shirts pushing around a purple baby buggy; there’s a man with a guide dog sat on a bench, waiting for the parade to begin. Louis picks up a small pansexual flag that someone must have dropped, and he waves it around. 

“That’s the spirit,” Zayn smiles approvingly. “Finally getting into it, eh?”

“Someone dropped it,” he explains, still waving the little flag around. “Figured I would save it from being trampled.” 

“Liam, tell Louis that he doesn’t need to lie. We all know he’s been fucking  _ waiting _ to unleash his pride since this morning,” Zayn reaches for his glitter, but Liam holds it above his head. “Come on, babe. Give it to me.”

“Nobody wants glitter everywhere,” Liam shakes his head, holding the canister even higher in the air when Zayn attempts to jump and grab it. “Louis already has sparkly dandruff.”

He huffs, giving in. “You’re a bloody arsehole, just so we’re clear.” 

“I love you, as well.”

Louis rolls his eyes, dropping the flag down to his side as he looks around some more. It doesn’t take long for the parade to begin, and soon they’re lined up next to the gate, snapping quick photos when they see something they particularly like. There’s a superhero themed car that Zayn and Liam are partial to. Although whether that’s due to the superheros or the nearly naked men walking beside it, Louis isn’t entirely sure. Probably both. Definitely both. 

A person dressed as Dorothy from  _ The Wizard of Oz _ catches Louis’ attention. Even from far away he can tell she’s gorgeous. Zayn seems to agree as he cheers for her, and she walks toward them to give them each a sticker. Louis is temporarily stunned by Dorothy’s wide smile, and forgets to reply when she says, “Happy Pride!” He blinks twice, and she’s gone. His momentary loss of words doesn’t go unnoticed, Zayn patting him on the back and laughing.

“As a friend of her’s,” he motions to Dorothy, who has made her way further down the tarmac. “I’m glad there’s finally someone who catches your interest.”

Louis rolls his eyes and tries to suppress the heat rising in his cheeks. He peels the back off the sticker and puts it on his shirt as Zayn and Liam do the same. Louis watches the rest of the parade, taking photos of the men on stilts, because they’re neat to see, and also taking a picture of the Starbucks employees. Their shirts are fantastic, and he wants one for himself. Time seems to fly by, and before Louis knows it, the parade is over and they’re on their way to Liam’s car. 

“Do you think Starbucks is selling those shirts?” he asks Zayn, who shakes his head.

“Employees only.”

“Well, fuck that,” Louis huffs. “I didn’t want one anyway.” 

Liam laughs, “Just have a friend buy it for you.”

“That isn’t the Louis Tomlinson way,” Zayn teases him. “That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?”

“Fight me.” 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he changes the subject, slinging his arm over Louis’ shoulders and walking beside him. 

“It wasn’t what I expected, but I liked it, yeah,” Louis says.

Zayn lets go of him and hops onto Liam’s back to be carried the rest of the way. “Then are you ready for the real fun to begin?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” He doesn’t remember being told of anything other than the parade. Granted, if Zayn did say something, it wouldn’t be the first time that Louis has ignored him.

“It’s Pride, Lou,” Zayn looks over his shoulder with a smug grin. “We’re going to Heaven.”

  
  


/

  
  


Fun doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

Louis knows that Zayn comes here often, sometimes with Liam, sometimes without. He’s been invited on multiple occasions, declining every time for good reason. The club scene is  _ not _ for Louis. It’s really, truly, definitely not for him. The loud music makes it difficult to have a decent conversation, and the neon lights flashing around make it impossible to tell if the person you’re trying to talk to is even attractive. Louis finds solitude in one of the movie rooms off of the main area. Of course, Zayn whines after him, explaining how he’s here to have  _ fun  _ and not to do something he could do at home. Louis shrugs him off, and eventually his friend decides it’s better off to leave him there anyway.  

About halfway through  _ Fight Club _ the room begins to be filled with more loved up couples and less actual film watchers. As much as he would like to ignore it, the blatant PDA makes him sick to his stomach. A pair of blondes beside him have been sucking face for a solid fifteen minutes, and they’ve begun to inch closer and closer to Louis. He tries to focus on what’s happening on screen, he really does, but when Blonde #1 falls back into his lap, Blonde #2 on top of her, he’s had it. Not wanting to ruin their moment (really, more power to them), he twists himself up and around the armrest, catching himself before he falls to the floor. It appears as though he won’t be finishing the movie tonight. It’s a shame, really. He hasn’t seen  _ Fight Club  _ in years.

He finds himself back at the bar, requesting the fruitiest drink on the menu in an effort to assert his manliness. One of the bartenders, a fit brunet who looks to be in his late twenties, happily assists Louis, mixing his drink with an obvious wink. 

“Happy Pride,” Louis cheers to him instead of saying thank you and turns around in his stool to watch the people on the dance floor. He isn’t sure if it’s always this packed or if the Pride festivities have drawn a much larger crowd. Either way, there’s absolutely no hope in finding Zayn or Liam in this club. Louis is hesitant to even find another room, in fear that he himself will get lost in the crowd. So, instead, he takes the time to collect his feelings about the day. 

All in all, Pride’s been amazing. Zayn had led him around tons of booths; he’s received more than enough free stuff;  met a fellow asexual;  watched a parade— all in celebration of LGBT awareness. Louis loves watching an excited community come together for a colorful purpose. Now that he’s thinking about it, it’s probably the reason he likes Christmas so much. The lights in the club change from green to purple as the bass drops and the dancers go crazy. It’s hectic, and Louis nearly hates the thought of being a part of it. Watching is entertaining enough. 

He’s startled from his thoughts when someone sidles up beside him, clapping their hands on the bartop and joyously requesting a drink. “Blackberry gin and tonic, please.” her voice rings in Louis ear, pricking a recent memory. He glances over at her in an attempt to be nonchalant, but she notices immediately. “Hello.”

“You were,” Louis tries to remember what he’s talking about, distracted by her expecting eyes _. Words, Louis. Words.  _ “Dorothy. Shit, yeah. In the parade today. With the slippers and shit.” 

She looks at him closely before speaking again. “You’re a lightweight, aren’t you?” 

“No, actually,” he says as he takes a drink, glad that she put his behavior on the alcohol and not on the fact that Louis blatantly finds her attractive. “Are you saying you weren’t Dorothy?”

“I was Dorothy,” she smiles widely, taking her drink from the bartender and sitting in the stool beside Louis. “This was my second year doing it.”

“This was my first year going to Pride.”

“Oh, really? Then, like, are you new to the LGBT?”

“Technically.” 

“What letter are you?” she grins again, and fuck. Louis spies a dimple. “A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I-”

“You don’t have to go through the entire thing,” Louis laughs. “Could’ve stopped at A.”

“Oh,  _ interesting _ .” And it truly seems like she means it. “A for asexual, aromantic, or agender?” 

“Asexual. What about you?” he asks. 

She gives him a look over her glass, one eyebrow raised. “I’m the T, Love. Please tell me you really couldn’t tell though, because that would probably be a highlight of my life.” 

“I didn’t want to make assumptions,” Louis explains, speaking louder to be heard over the music as it gains volume. 

“Thank you for that. Hey, what’s your name?” she asks, talking directly into Louis’ ear and sending light tremors down his spine with her breath. “Call me Harry.” 

“Louis.”

“Well, Louis,” Harry downs the rest of her drink, setting the empty glass on the bar. “Now that I’ve had my drink for the night, would you like to dance?” 

“Oh, I’m not—”

“Nope, won’t have it.” Harry hops down off the stool, smoothing out her black dress. Louis spies chest tattoos. “You’re going to dance with me.”

Louis gives in, probably much too easily, agreeing to go after he finishes his drink. Harry laughs, taking his hand and tugging him along toward the already dancing crowd. “Can we stay on the outside please?” he shouts to be heard. Harry nods, which is a good sign, Louis thinks. 

At first, it’s bumbly and awkward. He isn’t quite sure how to dance with another person like this, when everywhere he turns there are other people crowding in around them. Harry is a pro, and Louis finds himself paying more attention to her than to his own dancing. Someone grabs his hips from behind roughly, trying to pull him closer to their body, making Louis’ heart rate skyrocket for a few seconds. He manages to twist out of the stranger’s grasp, but ends up tumbling into Harry, who laughs it off, holding Louis by his elbows. “You okay?” she asks, shouting in Louis’ ear and tickling his neck with her curly hair.

“Yeah,” he replies with a nod. “Just attempting to evade the creeps.”

Harry’s laughter is quiet, understanding. “We can evade them together, yeah? I’ll battle your dragons if you battle mine?”

“I don’t think that’s how that’s supposed to work,” Louis finds himself laughing too. He stands on his own, and Harry lets him go. 

“Hmm,” she seems to honestly be thinking about it. “Then what the fuck, let’s just dance.” Her smile is wide, dimples on full display, as she spins around to the pulse of the music. 

Louis watches her in awe, wanting to tell her how amazing she looks in her dress and how jealous he is of her ability to dance in heels that tall. He’s mesmerised by the pure happiness she radiates, finding himself grinning along, unable to resist the silent pull of her cheerfulness. Louis is so lost in watching Harry, dancing with her and generally wondering if she was made purely to be the embodiment of joy that the hour blurs into three, and soon enough it’s much, much later than Louis anticipated staying. 

It’s their fifth break from dancing and their fourth trip to the bar for more drinks. Louis asks for a water, and Harry gets another blackberry gin and tonic. She’s gotten overtly superfluous since her last drink, and Louis feels the need to ask how many she had before they met. “None,” she swears. “I promise. This is only my fourth since being here.”

“You should order a water next,” Louis suggests, worried for her safety. 

Harry nods in agreement, “Oh, yeah. Definitely. I have to w—”

She’s cut off from explaining by a man who leans over the bar in between them, purposefully blocking Louis to talk to Harry, “Hey, babe.”

“Hello,” she says nicely, trying to talk around him. “I was having a chat with my friend here, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” The guy is slimy. Louis can smell the bad intentions on him like a cologne. “Dance with me.”

“I’m taking a break from dancing right now, actually.” her voice is even, but the tone is warning. “Please leave me alone.”

“Oh, come on baby. Just one dance. That’s all I ask,” he brings his hand to rest on Harry’s hip, and she smacks it away. 

“Don’t touch me.”

“You’re not being any fun,” Arsehole pouts, he actually  _ pouts _ and reaches out to put his hands on her again. “I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

“I was having a perfectly fucking lovely time until you came along, so, like I said. Don’t touch me.” Harry’s voice is firm, and Louis is impressed. He would step up to help, but she doesn’t appear to want any. Arsehole stays put for a second more or two before slinking away to a dark corner, probably hoping to find more willing girls there. Louis meets Harry’s eyes, and she shakes her head. “Idiots. I fucking hate them.”

“It’s a shame they exist, honestly.” 

“If he would have stayed any longer, I might have punched him,” Harry thinks aloud with smirk. “I haven’t punched anyone before. It sounds exciting.”

Louis laughs, “It sounds like one hell of a way to get yourself kicked out.” He doesn’t mean to yawn on the last word, but it happens and Harry takes notice.

“Oh, are you ready to call it a night? I’m sorry if I kept you here longer than you wanted to be.”

“No, no, no. You definitely didn’t,” he reassures her. “And I am tired, but after Arsehole’s display, I don’t really want to leave you here alone. I’ll be worried for the rest of my life as to whether or not you were safe.” 

Harry grins at him, only one dimple appearing this time. “That’s really nice, Louis. I can take care of myself, though.”

“What happened to fighting each other’s dragons, hmm?” he challenges, taking a drink of his water with one eyebrow raised. Harry rolls her eyes and sets down her own glass, still half full. 

“Dammit, you’re right. Guess you’re going to have to stick around in case some fire breathing wanker approaches me and tries to steal the family jewels.” 

He laughs and then yawns, having to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. Before he can say anything in response to her, Harry yawns too. “Oh, fuck. It’s contagious.”

“Jesus Christ, Lou! I was so ready for another five hours out on the town,” she fakes annoyance, but Louis can see the cheeky look in her eyes.

“Is the town even open for another five hours?”

“Can a town even close?” she counters, and Louis laughs again, beginning to feel stitches in his side.

“Are you going to head home, then?”

“I think so, yeah. You started me yawning and now I think I’m going to fall over, I’m so sleepy.”

“Well, can you get home alright?” Louis questions, concerned. He genuinely wants Harry to be safe and get some rest. 

She gives him a curious look, nodding but not saying anything, and Louis wonders if he said the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to ask, though, so he becomes enthralled in his water. “I think I’ll get home fine.”

“Just want to keep you safe, you know. Dragons and all.”

“Of course,” she smiles at him. “Do you want to head out now, then?” 

“Yea, just lemme message my friend.” Louis pulls out his phone to find to no one’s surprise that Zayn hasn’t texted him all night. He shoots him a quick reply to his silence, letting him know that he’s heading home. “Okay, let’s get you home.” 

“Gotta make sure you’re home safely too,” Harry points out. “Can’t have you scared shitless by all the dragons out there either.” 

“Where did this dragons thing come from, again?”

She gasps, feigning offense. “It was possibly the greatest thing I have ever said, and you go and forget it? Well, then. Fuck you too, Lou.”

“I’m under the influence, leave me alone!” Louis defends himself, knocking his shoulder into hers as they find their way to the exit. Harry giggles loudly, pulling Louis into a fit of his own laughter just by the sound.

They’re on the sidewalk in no time, looking both ways and discussing which way to go. “Well,” Harry starts slowly. “Am I walking you home, or are you walking me home?” 

“I don’t want you walking around by yourself at night,” Louis says immediately. “I’ll walk you home.”

She crosses her arms over his chest, and gives him a look. “I’m not letting  _ you _ walk around by yourself at night, either.” 

“Then let’s just both go to mine,” he replies. It makes sense, anyway. Harry shrugs and nods, agreeing easily, and fuck. Louis should probably text Zayn again and tell him to expect company. He does, and for what may be the only time in his entire life, Zayn replies immediately.

_ staying at liam’s anyway. _

Then two seconds later.

_ don’t forget to wrap up. _

Louis rolls his eyes as he thinks about a reply and leads Harry toward his small flat. He comes up with a text that he knows isn’t his best work.

_ that a note-to-self there bro _

“Who’re you texting?” Harry speaks up, and Louis looks up to meet her questioning glance. Even in the dark her eyes look green. Maybe it’s just Louis’ imagination.

“My roommate. I was telling him that you’re staying over, but he won’t be home anyway. He’s at his boyfriend’s,” Louis word vomits, expecting Harry to not give a shit about any of it.

“How long have he and his boyfriend been together?” she asks next, throwing Louis off guard. Although, to be honest, he should have fucking known. Harry has been nothing short of wonderful all night long. 

“I wanna say four months, but that’s probably wrong. I know fuck-all about their anniversary dates, I think Zayn started talking about Liam during second term.”

“You’re at university?”

“I am. My last year is coming up soon,’ Louis smiles at the thought. It’s so crazy that soon he’s going to be done with school.

“What are you studying?” 

“Art history,” he says. “Hopefully, I’ll get to work in an art museum.”

“That’s cool!” Harry exclaims as they turn the corner and begin to walk down Louis’ street. “That’s, like, really fucking cool.” 

Louis laughs, cheeks tinged pink. “Are you at university, as well?” 

“Yeah,” she nods. “Veterinary sciences.” 

“Big animals or little ones?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Harry shrugs, speaking earnestly. “I just like animals.”

“This is it,’ Louis stops walking in front of the door to his building. “We’re downstairs. I’ll show you around first.” He unlocks the door and holds it open for Harry to walk into the hallway. He watches her look around with an air of nosiness, and he tries not to smile too much about it. “Kitchen’s this way. You can take your shoes off in there.” 

He leads her to his and Zayn’s small kitchen, pointing to where she can keep her shoes for the night. They exchange pleasantries, and Louis makes them both tea. Conversation is easy and Harry looks relaxed. Louis shows her where she can sleep (his bed, he decides) and offers something to change into for the night. She takes him up on the offer and when Louis sees her again they’re both in the kitchen, Louis sipping tea and Harry wearing joggers that are just a little too short on her. His mind jumps to images of Hughes’ ‘Ophelia’, and though Harry is wearing an outfit far from a golden gown, Louis can’t help but concur with his conscience. 

“Here’s your cup,” Louis hands her the second mug and she thanks him. “I’m going to head to bed after I finish this. Feel free to raid the cupboards if you’re hungry at all. Please don’t steal anything though, that would suck-” 

“I’m not going to steal anything,” Harry chastises. “Don’t worry.”

“Figured I would say something anyway, just to be safe.” 

She smiles, rolling her eyes and drinking her tea. “Whatever. You’re not going to sneak into my bed later, then. Are you?”

Louis laughs at that, really. It’s the joke of the year. “I’m not going to try anything on you, that I can promise.” 

“Figured I would say something anyway,” she mimics his words. “Just to be safe.”

“Shut your gob,” Louis pushes playfully at her face and she licks his hand. “Ew. Nasty.” 

“It was really nice meeting you tonight, Lou.” Harry changes the subject, and Louis smiles softly at her kind words.

“You too,” he says, finishing off his cup of tea with another yawn. “You’re like a real life Little Miss Sunshine.” 

“Thanks,” she glances down at his empty cup. “Now go to bed.”

Louis laughs, putting the mug in the sink and wishing Harry sweet dreams. He finds his way to Zayn’s room, picking out a shirt from the closet that he’s almost positive is his anyway and swaps it out for the one he’s wearing. Climbing into the bed, he can hear Harry trying to be quiet as she puts her mug in the sink and goes into Louis’ room. Oh, God. Harry’s in Louis’ bedroom. Hopefully she doesn’t look in his drawers. 

  
  


/

  
  


Despite having an almost-stranger in the house with him, Louis falls asleep easily. Waking up is easy too, feeling oddly refreshed and very much enthusiastic about the possibility of breakfast with Harry. But by the time he gets out of Zayn’s bed and walks into the kitchen, the kettle’s on the stove and a post-it note on the handle that reads  _ thanks! H.  _

Harry is gone.

  
  


/

  
  


Louis decidedly wants his boss’ son to jump off a bridge. He  _ loathes _ him. Ever since Louis began working at the small diner a few weeks back (when he thought it was his chance to become the embodiment of ‘Nighthawks’ and oh was he mistaken), Nicholas fucking Grimshaw has made it his personal mission to make Louis quit. The thing is that he actually would if he didn’t need the money to pay for his final year at university. But he’s running low on funds, so he stays.

His job is simple enough; he runs the register. That is what he’s been hired to do, and that is what he should be doing. Nick doesn’t agree. He wants Louis to do everything, and then he wants Louis to put up with his constant nagging that he isn’t doing everything  _ correctly _ . And, honestly, Louis lives in an eternal state of wanting to kick him in his fucking shins. 

“Tomlinson,” Nick’s voice singsongs, reminding Louis of nails on a chalkboard. “Why isn’t the corner table cleaned off already?” 

“I dunno,” he mutters, angrily tapping on the buttons of the register. “Why don’t you ask Jonah? It’s his goddamn job.” 

“Louis!” he calls again, and Louis glares up at the annoying man. 

“I run the register, Nick. I don’t clean the tables. Jonah is the busboy, not me.” 

“I didn’t ask for Jonah to do it; I ask for you to do it, Sweetie.”

“It’s not my job.”

“You’re not going to have any job at all if you don’t clean off the corner table,” Nick warns with a wink, folding his arms over his chest. Louis rolls his eyes, but stands up from where he was perched on a stool. 

“You don’t even technically have a job here, anyway. So.” Louis is right. Nick’s step-dad owns the diner, and he lets Nick play manager when he doesn’t feel like coming in. Which is, more often than not, all the goddamn time. 

“I can still fire you.” 

“Aw,” Louis pouts dramatically as he stomps over to the corner table. “But then you wouldn’t have anybody to boss around.” 

Nick is about to respond when the door jingles open and customers walk in. It’s a group of people, Louis knows because he can hear them all chatting as they pick a table, but he doesn’t look up. They begin lining up to order their food as Louis takes all the dirty dishes to the wash. If Nick thinks Louis is going to clean any more than that, he’s got another thing coming. Making his way back to his stool and register, one voice catches his attention. He could place it anywhere, having spent two weeks with it embarrassingly replaying over and over in his head. 

Louis glances up, leaning against the cash register in an attempt to hide himself and not get caught creeping on her. Pastel pink is decidedly a much prettier colour on her than the black she wore at the club over two weeks ago, the first and last time Louis saw her. Harry is still a flower, though more subdued and less flashy. He likes it, Louis thinks. He likes this look a  _ lot.  _ Enough to stare a little longer, anyway.

“Tomlinson!” Nick shouts out at him, startling Louis back into an upright position on his stool. “No sleeping on the job,” he reprimands, and Louis rolls his eyes. “Sweetie.”

“Fuck off,  _ Grimshaw _ .” 

“Louis?” Harry calls out to him, and he watches her slide out of the booth. Why is she so tall? It isn’t fair to Louis’ already high strung emotions. 

“Hey, Harry,” he greets easily with a smile. “Long time, no see.” 

She smiles back and leans against his cash register. “Thought I would never see you again.”

“Thanks for not stealing anything,” he says, not really sure what else to do. There’s a very pretty girl staring at him with bright green eyes and a dimple, and honestly, what the fuck does God want from him at this point? He’s lucky he’s still able to say anything at all. 

“Thanks for not sneaking into my bed.”

“Shut up,” he bites his lip in an attempt to hide his smile, but he fails miserably. “How’ve you been?” 

“Pretty good,” she shrugs, reaching out to press buttons on the register. Louis bats her hand away before she can mess with anything. “Been out dancing mostly, and then with my family.” She motions to the booth she left with a toss of her head. “That’s them over there.” 

“Well, damn. Not even one date, and I’m already about to meet the parents. You move fast,” Louis teases. “Is the wedding tomorrow?”

Harry looks down at the gold watch on her wrist before replying, “In three hours actually. Hopefully you have your tux ready.”

Louis laughs at her joke, shaking his head. “Go be with your family,” he tells her. 

“I see them all the time,” Harry waves it off, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I haven’t seen you in  _ weeks _ .”

“The club scene isn’t one I frequent very often, sorry,” he apologises for absolutely no reason. So what, he doesn’t like sweaty grinding. Sue him.

“So...Do you come  _ here  _ often?” she asks, smirking at her use of such a terrible line.

“I work here.”

“Well, shit. I thought you were behind the counter because that’s where you wanted to eat.” 

“Harry!” a woman calls out, and Louis looks behind Harry to see someone, probably her sister, standing at the other end of the counter, staring at them. “Come order so we aren’t late to your appointment.” 

“Water, please.” she responds, not looking over her shoulder and just making a silly face at Louis who rolls his eyes.

“Food, Harry. You’ve got to come order your food.” 

Louis laughs and motions for Harry to shoo. “Go order your food and come back when you’re ready to pay.” 

“You only want me for my money,” she feigns hurt, but Louis sees right through her charade, his laugh slowing dissolving into light giggles. And fuck, why is he giggling? Harry looks pleased at his reaction and waves goodbye as she walks back to her family. Louis definitely doesn’t watch her, because that would be objectifying an almost-stranger, and that simply isn’t nice. Besides, Nick makes sure Louis is busy with another chore the moment Harry turns around. 

“What’s next, Nick? Gonna ask me to weed the flower beds in your grandmother’s front yard?” he asks, half-arseing his way through stacking napkins. “Paint your next door neighbour’s cousin’s daughter’s friend’s toenails?” 

“What’s next is me firing you,” he threatens for what feels like the millionth time today. 

“You don’t have that power,” Louis shrugs it off.

“You’re fired.”

He spins around to look for Jonah. “Hey, I didn’t actually finish cleaning the corner table. Could you do that, please?” 

“Sure, Louis,” the teenage boy with blond hair smiles at him, nodding. Louis watches him rush over to the table and finish wiping it off, completely ignoring a pouting Nick Grimshaw standing in front of him. 

“Right, sorry,” he looks back to Nick. “What were you saying?”

“You’re cute.”

Louis laughs until he’s made eye contact with a smirking, eavesdropping Harry, and Nick’s cheeks are red from embarrassment.

  
  


/

  
  


“Go Fish.”

“I thought we were playing Bullshit?” 

“Uno.”

“Just because you’re shit at this game, doesn’t mean you get to fuck around,” a reasonably wine drunk Louis argues, giving an equally wine drunk Zayn his dirtiest look.

“Why the fuck are we playing cards?” Zayn whines, throwing his cards to the floor and sending the pile between them everywhere. 

“You’re picking those up,” he states.

“Like hell I’m fucking doing that,” Zayn stands up slowly, balancing himself. “Let’s go somewhere. I don’t want to stay here tonight; we do this shit every night.”

Louis sighs, knowing that Zayn is right but not wanting to admit it. Louis hasn’t gone out with Zayn since Pride almost a month ago. Granted, he’s away with Liam more often than not lately. Still, they haven’t had a lads night in a long time. Even Louis, homebody of the year,  is getting a tad antsy. “Where do you want to go?” 

“I dunno. We could go to the bar,” he suggests. “I think Greg is working tonight.” 

Greg would be the one Zayn continually attempts to set Louis up with, but neither of them are interested. Louis is pretty sure that Greg is straight, anyway. He’s never asked, but he’s sure. A mental image of Greg appears in Louis’ mind, and he can’t determine if his nose is actually that funny looking or if it’s the wine affecting his memory. Greg has faint dimples too. They’re not as prominent or as lovely as Harry’s, and fuck. Louis can’t seem to go five minutes without thinking about Harry anymore. She’s driving him to the brink of madness, and they’ve only met twice.  _ Twice _ . Louis’ intoxicated mind is already naming their dogs. 

“So, is that a yes or a no?” Zayn pulls him away from his thoughts, and he blinks back into reality. “Bar or no?”

“Sure,” Louis shrugs, standing on his own. “I’ll get me shoes.” 

“Hurry up,” he singsongs, picking up his jumper from off its place draped over one of their three kitchen chairs. “We’re gonna be late.”

“Is Liam coming, as well?” 

Zayn sighs forlornly, “No. He’s got to be up at dead arse o’clock tomorrow.”

“I’m not familiar with that hour. Is it, like, between five and six?” Louis asks, slipping his sockless feet into his shoes, not caring to untie and retie them. 

“Four, more like,” he grumbles about. “Fucking… clients and their… scheduling.” 

“Doesn’t he get to pick his hours?” 

“This chick is paying him double to be up with her so early. I don’t know why anybody would fucking wanna be awake that early, let alone exercising,” he complains further. “I get that he’s fit, but even I wouldn’t wake up at four in the goddamn morning for him… and I’m the one he’s shagging, for Christ’s sake.” 

“So, it’ll just be us two then. Sounds good.” Louis grabs his phone, shoving it in his back pocket. 

“I’ll be your wingman for the night,” Zayn grins. “Then I’ll even be considerate and let you bring Greg home if you want.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

“You’re no fun. I’m just messing.”

“I’m not interested in Greg,” Louis states, giving Zayn a stern look so that he knows he serious. 

“You’re not interested in  _ anybody _ , and it’s  _ boring _ .” 

And, well. Louis knows that’s a lie. He’s very interested in Harry, but he couldn’t tell Zayn that. He’s only met Harry twice, and he doubts they’ll meet again. It’s best to simply leave well enough alone. False hope only breeds sadness, anyway. “You’re right. That’s me. Boring Louis. Now, let’s fucking go before I drink another bottle of wine and cry into a pillow about how boring I am.” 

Zayn just looks at him. “Bro.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, and they leave their flat, locking the door behind them. The night air isn’t particularly cold, given the time of year, but it’s cold enough to sober him up a bit. They walk in comfortable silence, Zayn with a cigarette in his mouth and Louis with a particularly pretty person on his mind. He knows he’s being ridiculous, that someone he’s only come into contact with twice shouldn’t be taking over his brain like this. Harry hadn’t even acted interested in Louis, perfectly platonic in her mannerisms and attitude. Louis shouldn’t be stuck on her like this. He just  _ shouldn’t _ . It doesn’t make any sense. 

He and Zayn make it to the bar just as the sun hides itself behind the buildings across the street. Louis is opening the door, holding it for a group of people who happen to be walking out as they’re entering. He gives each person exiting a fake smile, slightly annoyed that he has to do this, but not quite the arse to stop. Zayn rests his head on Louis’ shoulder as they wait, making ridiculous aeroplane noises in his ear. “Quit, you knob.” 

“Louis!” a bright voice calls his name, and Jesus mother-fucking  _ Christ.  _ Is she following him or something? “We’ve got to stop running into each other like this,” Harry laughs and takes the door from Louis’ hold. 

“Are you following me?” he jokes lightly, even though he’s actually suspicious at this point. 

“Oh, God, no. I’m not. Really, I swear,” Harry runs a hand through her hair. She looks embarrassed, standing there as though she doesn’t know she’s precisely the beauty An He would want to capture on canvas. “Promise.”

“Just wondering. This is the second time in two days,” he points out. Harry rolls her eyes, fixing her bag on her shoulder. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m actually leaving right now, so.” she motions to the group who walked out before her, standing at the street corner and laughing about something someone said.

“And we’re heading in,” Zayn interjects. The weight of his head leaves Louis’ shoulder and he watches as Zayn steps out from behind him and waves at Harry. “I’m Zayn, by the way. Don’t think we’ve met.” 

“Call me Harry,” she smiles, revealing one of her dimples. “And no, I don’t think we’ve met either. This is only my third run-in with Louis, anyway.”

“Oi, Harry!” a man’s voice calls, and she looks over her shoulder at the group waiting for her. “C’mon, then!”

“Be right there, Aiden.” 

“Go on,” Louis motions her away. “We’re letting all the cold air into the bar by keeping this door open.”

Harry laughs lightly, rolling her eyes. “It was good seeing you again, Louis. Even if you are stalking me.” 

“Hey,” he tries his best to sound offended, but in reality, he’s just too fucking endeared. “ _ You’re _ the one stalking  _ me _ .” 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Love,” she waves them inside the building, spinning in her electric blue high heels and walking toward the group still waiting. “Bye!”

“Goodbye, Harry.” Louis says, unabashed in his blatant staring as she walks away. Zayn crosses his arms over his chest and raises a judgmental brow.

“C’mon, you whipped arse,” he tugs on Louis’ jacket. “You’ve got some explaining to do, and I refuse to listen until you buy me a Brandy Alexander.” 

  
  


/

  
  


“Louis!” Zayn’s voice calls out as the door shuts behind him. “I’m home. Did you go to the shop?” 

“Oh,” Louis sets the book he was reading down on the kitchen table. “Fuck. No, I didn’t.” 

“You’re slacking,” his best friend clicks his tongue against his teeth, and Louis rolls his eyes. “I thought I trained you better than this.” 

“Trained me?” he gives him a look, standing up to get himself a drink. “I’m not your bloody servant.” 

Zayn feigns confusion, setting his bag down on the chair Louis had been sitting in not even seconds before. “What the hell are you doing here, then?” 

“You tosser,” Louis laughs, kicking him on the back of his thigh.

“But really,” he sobers. “We ran out of bread this morning, can you run to the shop, please?” 

“Yeah, I was going to go after I finished the chapter I was on,” Louis says, putting the drink back into the fridge. “But I can go right now.” 

“Get Cornflakes while you’re out. Oh, and ice-lollies.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

“Hmm,” Zayn hums as he leaves the kitchen in a mad dash for his bed. “I could get used to that.”

“Fuck off!” 

Louis slips on his shoes and grabs his key so he can get back into the flat later. It may be the middle of the afternoon, but Louis knows better than to underestimate the depth of Zayn’s sleep. During their first month of living together Louis had left his key at home, foolishly assuming his new roommate would be there to open the door for him. Zayn had been fast asleep, and Louis was locked out for three and a half hours. 

Tesco isn’t too far away, and Louis finds himself lost in thought the entire way. It’s been three days since his last run in with Harry, and Louis decided that he would read a book to keep his mind off of her. The book he chose has done nothing to help, every other page reminding him of Harry in some way or another. It’s absolutely ridiculous, and Louis knows that. He feels like a twelve year old schoolboy again, seeing a footie player on the telly and swearing up and down that he’s the handsomest man Louis had ever seen.

In his Harry induced daze, he can’t remember what he needs to buy and wishes he’d  been intelligent enough to write a list. He remembers that Zayn asked for cereal and ice-lollies. Also bread? Some milk wouldn’t hurt, either. Also, they haven’t had much fruit in their flat lately. Perhaps Louis should buy apples and bananas for them to snack on instead of crisps and ice cream. As soon as that thought crosses his mind though, he’s laughing to himself and shaking his head. Like hell they’d be eating healthy anytime soon. He picks out the box of cereal he thinks Zayn asked for and tosses it in his basket. Spinning around to find the next item on his mental grocery list, he instead finds himself knocking into someone and blindly attempting to steady himself before he falls over. 

“Shit!” he explains, focusing his vision. “Shit, sorry.” 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. We have got to stop doing this,” Harry’s voice is light and airy, teasing. Louis can feel a heat rising into his cheeks, he knows it won’t be long before they’re a stained crimson. 

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

“Obviously not,” she laughs.

“This is the third time this week that we’ve run into each other, you know,” Louis says, scanning Harry’s figure to see if she looks like she’s trying to hide something. To Louis’ ease, she looks as relaxed as she had been the other three times they’ve seen each other. “Fourth time total.” 

“You know what they say,” Harry starts. “Twice is a coincidence, but three times—” 

“Is a pattern,” he finishes for her, fixing the items in his basket so that they’re set in it orderly. 

“If I’m not stalking you, then you’re obviously stalking me.”

“I am  _ not  _ stalking you,” Louis laughs in disbelief. “Trust me. I was the one at work.  _ You’re  _ the one who came in, running into me.” 

“Damn, you’ve caught me,” she deadpans. “I’ve nothing better to do with my life than follow Louis Tomlinson around.” 

“I’m only teasing, you know that. Really though,” he gives her a curious look. She knows his last name, and he is definitely  _ not  _ internally freaking out about it. “What are you doing over here? You don’t live around, do you?”

“I don’t live over here, no,” Harry explains. “But my friend does, and I’m supposed to be bringing something to her party. The problem is, I completely forgot I had to, so I’m here looking for a last minute option.” 

“Sounds serious.”

“It’s really, very serious.” 

“So, now that we’ve determined that you  _ are  _ stalking me—”

“I am not,” her mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Love.”

“Do you think cereal is appropriate to bring to a house party?” she changes the subject back to her problem at hand. Louis laughs a little, shaking his head.

“Probably right up there with mayonnaise on the list of what you shouldn’t bring,” he says. 

“Well, there goes plan B, then.” Harry snaps her fingers like she’s out of luck, then pulls out a phone. “Do you want to come with me? 

“What?” 

“To the party!” she exclaims happily. “New friends are always welcomed, and I think Sophia would love you.”

New  _ friends _ . Louis looks at the cereal boxes on the shelves beside them, wondering if it would be socially acceptable to punch them in. “I’m supposed to be getting home, actually. Mine and Zayn’s fridge is embarrassingly bare.” 

“Oh, well, then. Next time.” 

“Definitely,” Louis nods once. 

“Here,” she holds out her phone. “Put your number in. That way we can plan our next get together. I thoroughly expect you to make an appearance at Heaven again; I need a steady dance partner.” 

“Probably won’t be going back to Heaven anytime soon,” Louis laughs, taking the phone. “Now you don’t have to waste time stalking me anymore. If you want to know where I am, feel free to text.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

  
  


/

  
  


Louis learns quickly that Harry spends all of her free time sending watermelon emojis.

  
  


/

  
  


Louis very much enjoys Sundays, more so now that he has a job taking over his free time during the week. He loves relaxing, catching up on  _ Eastenders _ , and the occasional footie game with some of the lads from uni. Since Zayn has all but moved in with Liam, their flat is practically empty all the time, leaving Louis to entertain himself. Zayn was over at his boyfriend’s last night and never came home, so Louis is once again alone in the small flat, trying to think of something to do. 

When his phone buzzes from across the room, it feels like Louis’ prayers have been answered. He sets his glass of water down on the breakfast bar and grabs his phone. It’s Harry.

_ Are you busy today? _

Hopefully, he will be in about five minutes when Harry invites him to do something. Otherwise, no. Louis leads a boring life.

_ not particularly, why _

_ My mate has a booth at the farmer's’ market, and I promised I would visit and buy something. Want to come? _

Louis has never been to a farmers’ market in his life. He knows fuck all about farmers’ markets. If a murderer held him at gunpoint and demanded that Louis tell him what a farmers’ market is, Louis would die right then and there. 

_ sure, i love farmers’ markets! :)  _

He immediately exits out of his messages and Googles. The page loads and Louis sees that it’s a noun, which is probably the only thing he already knew. Reading further, he realises that the term ‘farmers’ market’ is extremely self explanatory. He also realises that he’s a bloody idiot for not knowing this. Harry texts back and asks for his address, saying that Louis’ flat is closer to it, and they both agree to meet here. 

Now Louis has to get dressed, and he isn’t sure if he wants to impress Harry or if he just wants to be comfortable for the day. Scrounging through his drawers, he decides on a happy medium. Besides, he and Harry are friends now. It isn’t like she’s going to really care what he wears— they’re practically just grocery shopping. (He does up his hair though, just in case.) 

Spending the next half an hour doing nothing but awaiting Harry’s arrival should probably make Louis feel a little bit embarrassed. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, his immediate willingness to do practically anything Harry asks of him should make him a hell of a lot  _ more _ embarrassed. Louis needs to sit down with himself and figure out what his brain is playing at, honestly, because as of late, it seems to have a mind of it’s own. No pun intended. 

There’s a knock on his door that makes Louis jump, startled. He rushes to open it, smiling at the person on the other side. Harry is dressed significantly more casual than the last time Louis saw her. Dark skinny jeans and a shirt with a lobster on it.

“Is that a B-52’s shirt?” he asks instead of saying hello. 

“We were at the beach,” Harry dances her way into Louis’ flat. “Everybody had matching towels.”

“Stop.”

“Somebody went under a dock, and there they saw a rock,” Harry sings happily, and Louis rolls his eyes, closing the door behind him. “It wasn’t a rock. Was a rock lobster!”

He can’t stop his laugh from bubbling past his lips, “Finished?”

“Yeah,” Harry puts her arms down with a grin. “It’s a B-52’s shirt.” 

“Never would have pegged you for an 80s pop kind of girl,” Louis muses, grabbing his keys so he can lock the door when they leave. 

“Love it,” she says, looking around his living room curiously. “The Temptations, The B-52’s, Cyndi Lauper, all of the one hit wonders. Michael Jackson… the classics.” 

“I’m partial to It’s Raining Men.” 

Harry laughs loudly, clutching her stomach and making heat start to rise in Louis’ cheeks. He wasn’t even trying to be funny, yet Harry is laughing as though it was the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Do you like Madonna too? That would be the next surprise of the century.” 

“What was the first surprise?” Louis asks.

“That Louis Tomlinson has danced to The Weather Girls on multiple occasions.” 

“I will have you know,” he starts, but Harry won’t stop laughing. “Are you almost done?” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she says, trying to stop the giggles but only partially succeeding. 

“No, I don’t like Madonna for you information. Does she even count for 80s pop anymore? She still hasn’t gone away. Persistent, that one.” 

Harry collects herself, a faint smile still present on her lips, “Are you ready to go to the farmers’ market?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Will there be parking or should we walk?” 

“The tube works fine,” Harry says, walking through the door Louis is holding open for her. 

“Okay, then.” 

“Are you okay with that?” she asks, walking backwards with her hands in her pockets to talk to him. He nods, and she turns back around. “Good.”

“So your friend,” Louis begins, making conversation. “He’s selling things?” 

“His family owns a pick-your-own raspberry farm a few hours north of here, but they come down to the markets to sell berries once a month. He wanted me to come today, because apparently he’s been working on his own special project,” she explains. “I don’t know what it is, but he sounds really fucking excited about it. 

“It’s this way.” Harry follows Louis around the corner as their conversation continues easily. “Probably has to do with berries, though? So, maybe, like, a jam?” 

Harry’s curls bounce as she shakes her head, “No, they already sell jams. They’ve got a bunch of those, some pastries, this amazing lemonade that you  _ have  _ to try.”

He laughs lightly, shrugging. “Alright. Sounds good.”

“Also like a lip balm sort of thing I think,” she continues. “So, I’ve no fucking clue what he’s been working on.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” 

The ride to the farmers’ market is a quiet affair. Not awkward, just quiet, and soon enough they’re walking toward her friend’s booth, immersed in a modern version of Aertsen's market scenes, discussing which Harry Potter book is the best. 

“All I’m saying is, if you don’t think  _ Order of The Phoenix _ had the best characterisations and villain,” Harry argues. “Then I don’t know what sort of drugs you’re on, but they’re affecting your brain a little too much.”

“Umbridge may have been the best villain in the entire series, but that doesn’t make that book better than  _ Prisoner of Azkaban.  _ Everybody knows that plot twist blindsighted the entire fucking world.” 

“Harry!” a very jovial, very Irish voice shouts, interrupting their conversation. 

“Niall! Hey, mate,” she shouts back at him, dragging Louis to the booth full of red and yellow raspberries. “How’ve you been?” she asks him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Louis watches silently, waiting for a good moment to introduce himself. He doesn’t have to wait long before Harry motions to him. “This is my friend, Louis. Louis, this is Niall.”

“‘Ello.” 

“Are you here to try the greatest beer you’ve ever had in your life?” Niall asks then spins around to grab someone else’s attention. “Hey, babe. Can you grab the mason jar marked  _ H _ ?” 

“Sure,” a decent looking lad nods and stands. Niall turns back to Louis and Harry with a wide smile on his face. 

“You’ll love it.”

“You made fruit beer?” Harry asks, vaguely curious, but mostly confused. 

“It’s raspberry ale,” Niall explains, taking the mason jar from the other lad and kissing his cheek. “Thanks, babe.” 

“I have to get going, are you alright by yourself?” he asks him. Louis watches the man run his hand up and down Niall’s back soothingly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Eva’ll be back right quick,” he hands over the mason jar to Harry. “Drink up.”

She looks at it hesitantly, glancing up at Louis a moment with a raise of her eyebrow. “Do we trust?” 

“I don’t know,” he decides to play along. “Looks rather suspicious to me.”

“Oh, fuck off and just drink it,” Niall interrupts, rolling his eyes. Harry and Louis’ laughter sounds lovely together, Louis tells himself. He watches as she takes a sip of the drink and tries to determine whether or not she likes it. 

“It’s… different.”

“A while back, Patrick and I went to a tasting up north, and the brewery had blueberry ale,” Niall tells the story with his hands waving around. “And we were both like, no way. That’s got to be the shittiest tasting thing. Right? But we convinced each other to try it anyway, and our minds were completely blown. It was great.”

“So, you decided to try it with raspberries,” Louis supplies, and Niall nods. Harry hands the jar over to Louis for him to try it. He’s pretty intrigued, if he’s honest, but not entirely sure he’s going to like it. He doesn’t want to seem like a complete arse in front of Niall for the faces he may or may not make when he tastes the ale. “I’m not too keen on raspberries, fair warning.” 

Niall just shrugs, not seeming to really care whether or not Louis loves the drink. So, he decides to just go for it. Taking a small sip, he braces himself for a flavour he can’t stand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t find it too bad. “That’s actually pretty good,” Louis says, looking at the ale left in the mason jar. “Not overly fruity.” 

“Hey, Eva!” Harry interrupts them, smiling bright and holding out her arms to hug a redheaded woman. 

“Hi, Harry, Love,” Eva kisses Harry’s cheek before letting go and making her way around the table to Niall. Louis watches as she also kisses him— on the mouth, playfully swatting at his bum. His face must give way to his confusion, because Harry leans into him and whispers in his ear. 

“Niall, Patrick, and Eva are dating.”

“Three?”

“Whatever works, you know?” she shrugs, still smiling. Then she takes the mason jar out of Louis’ hands, takes another drink of the raspberry ale, and hands it back to Niall. “Eva, this is Louis. Louis, Eva.”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman grins, setting down her bag. “Has Niall already intoxicated you, then?” 

“Not yet,” he laughs. “Takes a little more to inebriate us, doesn’t it Harry?” 

“That’s right,” she nods, wrapping her arm around Louis’ shoulder, and really, he isn’t screaming internally. He’s _ not _ . 

  
  


/

  
  


“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she turns to face him. “What?” 

“Why did you keep your name?” Louis asks, glancing over at her every other second to gauge her reaction. 

“Are you saying you don’t think girls can be named Harry?” she counters, eyebrow raised in a challenge. 

“I mean— I just meant—”

Harry laughs, cutting Louis off with a shake of her head. “You’re okay. I did keep my name. Well, technically I had it legally changed to Abigail. But I figured I was already changing so much for myself, not really thinking about how it might affect my friends and family, that I might as well do something for them, so I kept Harry as a nickname. Made the transition easier, anyway.” 

“So, it’s Abigail Styles, then?” 

“Abigail Anne Styles,” she recites as if she had spent days in front of a mirror repeating it over and over until she believed it. It takes a moment for Louis realise that that’s probably exactly what she did.

“Anne for…”

“My mum’s name is Anne.”

“Interesting,” Louis says earnestly. “So, when she’s mad at you, does she shout ‘Abigail Anne!’ and have to stop and laugh, ‘cause she’s shouting her own name?”

Harry laughs quietly at the question, shaking her head. She takes a drink of her coffee before answering. “No, but I’m not one for getting into trouble with my mum. Although, once, when I was, like, fifteen, my sister and I got into this huge fight over a party I wanted to go to with her, and my mum did have to step in. I don’t think she shouted my name, but she might have.” 

“Can I ask you another question?” 

“Ask them all,” he grins. “Might as well.”

“You’ve just started uni, yeah? Why don’t you live in uni accommodation?” 

“Oh,” Harry doesn’t seem to have been expecting that question, but she isn’t put off by it. “My family and I decided that it would be safer for me to live elsewhere. Just in case students decided to be ignorant and vile, you know?” 

“That makes sense,” Louis nods. They’re quiet for the rest of the way to Harry’s.

“Need me to walk you up?”

“It’s pretty safe, but if it’ll make you feel better, sure.” Harry motions to Louis which way they should walk. She ensures him that she’s only on the third floor, and the stairs are much faster than waiting for the lift to come down, so they take the stairs. “My neighbour, Lucas, always likes to check on me and make sure I’m home in one piece when I go out. He’s very kind,” Harry makes conversation as they get to the second flight of stairs. “I think I remind him of his daughter, honestly. Or maybe he just thinks I’m cute. I do sometimes share my fruit crumbles with him, though. So, there’s a variety of reasons he likes to make sure I’m safe.” 

“You make fruit crumbles?”

“Yeah, any kind of fruit, really. Lucas likes rhubarb the most, so I always make sure to have extra just for him,” Harry grins, pausing to take Louis’ hand before they reach the top of the stairs. “Shit!” she exclaims suddenly.

“What?”

“I totally forgot to water my plants this morning. Dammit. I hope they don’t wilt. That’s the absolute worst; makes me feel incredibly incompetent.”

“I’m sure they’re fine with water coming a few hours late,” Louis supplies, but Harry shakes her head. 

“Marjorie is the bitchiest plant you will ever meet. She started turning brown because I turned her around and she wasn’t facing the right way.” 

“You named your plant Marjorie?”

“She’s a venus flytrap,” Harry says, as if that explains everything. It sort of does. She lets go of Louis’ hand to take out her keys and unlock the door. Just as she twists the knob, another door opens and an older man pokes his head out into the hallway.

“That you, Miss Abigail?” 

“Yep,” she smiles brightly at him. “And this is my friend, Louis.”

“Hullo,” he nods to Louis, who waves back. “M’ Abigail’s neighbour. Call me Lucas.”

“Hi.”

“Just makin’ sure ya got home safely,” Lucas continues. “You weren’t around all day. Ya said you were goin’ to the market, but then ya never came back. Got a little worried, but you’re a good kid. I knew you’d be fine.” 

“I did go to the market,” Harry beams, appearing happy that he remembered she said that’s where she would be. “But I ran into this one while I was there, and then we lost track of time. It’s really late though, you should head to bed now.” 

“I was just about to turn in for the night when I heard you two out ‘ere. ‘ave a good night, both of ya. Nice to meet ya, Louis.”

“You as well, Lucas.” 

He nods before ducking back into his flat, shutting the door behind him. Harry winks at Louis as she opens her own door, letting Louis walk in first. She shuts it behind them both before laughing. “He means well.” 

“I like him,” Louis humours. “Very sweet.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, slipping off her shoes and walking over to an end table to set down her purse. “He is. It’s nice to know somebody cares if you make it home or not, you know?”

“I care if you make it home.”

“I care about you too,” Harry smiles. They look at each other for a moment, before she snaps out of it, rushing to the sink to fill a blue mason jar with water from a jug beside it. “Can you grab the mister that’s on top of the terrarium for me, and bring it over here?” 

“Sure,” Louis nods scanning the living room for the terrarium Harry is talking about. He finds it on a stand by the window, nearly hidden by bigger plants. The mister is purple, plugged into the wall, and attached to the terrarium with rubber bands. “Just unplug it?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, coming up behind Louis to water the other plants. “And refill it with the distilled water, please.”

He does what he’s asked with little trouble. Harry walks him through caring for the greenery, patient with him and happily answering any of his curious questions. She has plants scattered throughout her home, at least two in each room, so Louis gets the full tour during their watering escapades. Harry is surprisingly eccentric. Louis isn’t sure exactly what he expected, but broken faerie lights, faded tapestries, exotic plants, and a low bed frame definitely aren’t it. Harry seemed more primadonna than that, more along the lines of the bubblegum pop she blasts in the car. Despite himself, Louis smiles at her inconsistencies. 

“It is now past midnight,” Harry sighs as they sit down on her sofa. “Want to sleep here?” 

“Would I be a bother?” he asks, just to make sure she really wouldn’t mind if he stayed. She shakes her head, so Louis nods. “Then yes, please.”

“Of course,” she says quietly, yawning. “Is it alright if you sleep on the sofa?”

“Yeah, I mean it’s your place.”

“It’s not going to be the best sleep you’ll ever have, I’m sorry. I would let you sleep in bed with me, but I’m just  _ not  _ comfortable with you...you know,” Harry closes her eyes, Louis presumes so that she doesn’t have to look at him as she continues. “I can’t fall asleep tucked, so I have to undo it, and I’m not...I just—”

“Hey,” Louis’ hand comes to rest softly on Harry’s cheek. She opens her eyes. “It’s okay. I understand. Do what you need to do.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t apologise for your feelings.”

“Still.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me at all. I don’t need a reason if you don’t want to give it. You asked for me to sleep on the sofa, so that’s what I’ll do. Although,” Louis pauses. “Would it be okay if I took a shower?”’

“Yeah, of course.” Harry pops up from her spot, motioning for Louis to follow. “I’ll get you pillows and blanket while you’re doing that. Towels are under the sink, go ahead and use whatever soap is in there, and turn the knob to the right for hot water even though it says to turn it left. Also, I don’t care if you use my toothbrush. If you have the need to brush your teeth, go for it.” 

“I won’t use your toothbrush,” Louis laughs. “Thank you so much.”

“Let me go get those pillows for you,” she smiles and leaves him to figure out the shower on his own.

  
  


/

  
  


Louis really despises his job.

  
  


/   

  
  


With university starting up, Louis’ time has been split between dealing with Nick Grimshaw, getting ready for his final school year, pacifying Zayn’s never ending need to go out, and his personal favourite, texting Harry. 

Their schedules have been too busy over the past two weeks that they haven’t had time to properly meet up again. Louis invited Harry out for coffee the Tuesday before last, but even that was cut short by Louis’ job. He isn’t entirely sure what Harry’s been up to, as she doesn’t work, but she’s been trying and failing to see Louis for the entire week. So, they’ve been conversing through text. Meaningless conversations mixed with genuine information and Harry’s obnoxious habit of adding more emojis than necessary to Every. Single. Message _. _ She sends lots of selfies as well, so Louis figures dealing with an overabundance of smiley faces is worth it. 

Louis doesn’t know how he hasn’t been fired yet, honestly. He’s taken to sneaking his phone behind the register and paying more attention to Harry’s silly messages than the customers who want to pay for their meals. Even Nick, who has caught him on multiple occasions, hasn’t threatened giving him the sack. Which is weird, because that used to be the only thing Nick was good for. Louis drums his fingers along the register keys, his leg bouncing up and down as he awaits Harry’s next message. When his phone vibrates, he moves faster than he has in a long time, and it should be embarrassing, really. It’s not, but it should be. 

“Tomlinson,” Nick calls out, and Louis sighs. This is it. This is when he gets fired. “We need to talk.” 

“If it’s about your new hairstyle, no. It doesn’t look any better than the rat’s nest you had before,” Louis says with a plastic smile. Nick rolls his eyes and leans against Louis’ little box. 

“Thanks, I’m glad you like it,” he smirks. “But no, nothing to do with my hair.” 

Louis slides his phone underneath his thigh, freeing up both of his hands and hopefully hiding his mobile from Nick’s vision. “Then what?” 

“There’s a parish festival this Friday,” he begins, and Louis’ heart drops to his stomach. He knows where this is going, and he should probably stop Nick while he’s ahead.

“I’m not religious.”

“It’ll be like a proper fair. All the foods, the silly carnival games, probably a carriage ride opportunity or two,” he keeps going, and Louis blanches. 

“I don’t really want to go.” 

“And I was thinking that it sounds like something you would love,” Nick seems to be determined with this. Also, how the fuck does he know what Louis would love? “And so I wanted to ask if you wanted to go with me, maybe?”

It’s times like these that Louis wishes he understood the difference between flirty banter and actually being able to clarify that you really do hate a person. He isn’t entirely sure how Nick took Louis’ blatant disinterest as bloody fucking _ interest,  _ but here we are. Louis may hate his job, but he’s still short for his school payment. He needs this job. He doesn’t want to go to this festival with Nick, hell no, but he can’t just tell him that. Louis is between a rock and a hard place, and this particular rock helps pay his bills. His phone vibrates beneath his thigh, startling him and also giving him an idea, a way out of this mess. 

“I’m actually already going,” Louis says slowly.

“Oh?” Nick looks pleased. “That’s great then. We could just go together.” 

“No, like, I’m already taking someone.” 

“Right, right,” Nick takes it in stride, and Louis breathes a sigh of relief. “I’ll ask someone else, then. See you there, though.”

“Yeah,” he presents him with a tight, fake smile and waits patiently for him to fuck off. Nick taps Louis’ box once before spinning around and yelling for Jonah, suddenly finding something wrong with the young boy’s job performance. Louis waits seven seconds before whipping out his phone to check the messages from Harry and send his own. 

_ parish festival friday, you’re coming with _

Harry’s reply is quick. 

_??? _

Louis has to deal with some customers first so that they can leave. The man waiting hands him the little, plastic green card, and Louis runs it through his machine to ring the family up. Tearing off the receipt, he wraps the card in it and hands it back to the man. “Have a great day.” 

“You as well,” he replies gruffly, taking his children outside. Louis grabs his phone again. 

_ i may or may not have used you to get out of going with someone else who is now expecting me to be there with a date aka you, so we’re gonna go and maybe win a fish _

He watches his phone screen light up with Harry’s name and the first selfie she ever sent him, and Louis glances around for Nick. He finds him almost immediately, stewing in the corner booth, pouting as he stares out the window. “Nick, I’m going to the loo.” Not waiting for the go-ahead, Louis jumps down from his stool and rushes to the loo, clicking answer just in time, “I have to be quick. I’m at work.” 

“Did I misunderstand, or did you just tell me that we’re going on a date Friday?”

“Did I say that?”

“You said, and I quote, ‘I may or may not have used you to get out of going with someone else who is now expecting me to be there with a  _ date _ , aka you.’ I’m not sure how much experience you have in relationships, but Lou, that was a shit way to initiate a first date,” she says with a loud laugh, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“You know Nick?” 

“The annoying wanker from the diner?”

“That’s the one,” Louis grins. “He tried asking me to this festival thing.” 

“You could have just said no, you know.”

“Not if the only reason he’s keeping me around is because he thinks he has a chance with me,” he explains, words rushed. “I’m shit at this job. The only reason I’m still here is because Nick thinks he can get in my pants, I think. I couldn’t say no, I need the money.” 

“Hmm,” Harry hums disbelievingly. “Likely story.”

“I—”

“Wanted to take me on a date. It’s understandable. I would want to date me too.”

“Fuck off.” 

Harry laughs louder this time, and Louis has to hold his phone away from his ear. He waits for her to finish. “I’m only teasing,” she finally says. “But were you serious about winning a fish?” 

“I’ve never been to a parish festival. Do they have fish to be won?” he asks. 

“I think it really depends on which festival we’re talking about,” she replies. “Do you know?”

“I have no fucking clue. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to figure out though. We really don’t actually have to go if you don’t want to.” 

“You can’t just promise me a fish, and then say nevermind.” 

“Do you want a fish, Harry?” 

“No,” he can hear her smirking. “They keep them in terrible conditions, I don’t want to condone that. How about a stuffed animal instead?”

“Sure,” Louis says, thinking about how fun a festival with Harry will be. “Want to get pizza?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah,” he nods even though she can’t see him. 

“I have to help my step-dad at his office tonight, unfortunately. I mean, you could bring pizza and help out?” 

Louis thinks about her offer for a few seconds. “If you want help?”

“It would make things go faster. I was going to invite Aiden, but he’s got a date with this girl he met online,” she explains. “Have you met Aiden? I don’t think you did.”

“The name sounds familiar, but you haven’t introduced me to any of your friends except Niall and his partners,” he leans against the brick wall and watches himself in one of the mirrors above the sinks. 

“Well, damn then, we’ll have to all get together one weekend. You’ll love each other, I know it. Hey, I have to go though. I’ll text you the address in a bit.” 

“Yeah, I need to get back to work.”

“Shit, you’re at work? I’m sorry for calling, I didn’t know that’s what you were doing. You were texting me,” Harry apologises, and Louis rolls his eyes. 

“Told you I was shit at this job.” 

“Get back to work before you actually  _ do _ get fired,” she laughs, and they say goodbye. Louis presses end and locks his phone to see his reflection on the black screen. Zayn definitely isn’t going to let him live this one down. 

  
  


/

  
  


Harry failed to mention that her stepfather partners at a large law firm in the heart of London. Louis feels slightly foolish walking into the building in joggers and a faded pink jumper, carrying the ridiculous pineapple pizza that Harry begged him to get. His saving grace is that it’s late and almost everyone in the office has left for home by now. She’d told him what floor her father’s office is on, second to the top, and when he finally reaches the office Harry said she would be in, Louis uses his elbow to knock on the door, watching as Harry pops up from behind the big mahogany desk. 

“Thank God, you’re here.” Harry hops up, brushing herself off and giving Louis an opportunity to see the oversized, floral patterned t-shirt she’s wearing. Not for the first time, he finds himself thinking of how it wouldn’t work on literally anybody else. “I’m starving, and talking to myself has grown old.” 

Louis walks over to the desk and sets the pizza box down on an empty space. “I’ll be the one starving in a bit. Pineapple pizza? What kind of sin.” 

“Have you ever  _ had  _ pineapple on your pizza?” she challenges, cocking her hip and placing her hand on it. Louis would laugh if he wasn’t so endeared. 

“No,” he confesses. “But it’s not something you have to have. You just know that it’s a crime against food.” 

“Just try it for me.”

“Maybe,” Louis looks around the office, taking in all of the family photos on the walls, the giant bookshelves behind the desk that run the length of the room, and all of papers in stacks on little tables and chairs. “What are we doing here, anyway?” 

“Robin, my step dad, needed some help organising all of these books. He and mum are out of town on a little holiday, so I offered my assistance. Gemma was supposed to come help, but she conveniently got sick.” 

“Is she okay?” he questions her, worried about Harry’s sister.

“She’s fine. Not even ill. She just didn’t want to deal with all this alphabetising,” she huffs out.

Louis laughs at Harry’s annoyance, then opens the lid of the pizza box. “Well,” he says. “I think I can be of some assistance in her place. I also brought you the nasty food that you just had to have, so I would say that I’m already being really, very helpful.” 

“The most,” she smiles widely, dimples on full display.

“So, tell me what to do,” Louis gets right down to the business at hand, hoping that if he can help Harry get finished with the books, they can find some new, ridiculous hell to raise afterwards. 

“Right,” she spins around, pointing at the bookshelves with her bottom lip between her teeth. “Top left corner starts the A’s. Those go all the way across, then start back at the left of the second shelf. Make sense?” 

“I think so,” he nods.

“Good,” Harry grabs one of the books laying on the large swivel chair. “I’m pretty much done with A through E, though. Left some spaces just in case we find some I accidentally missed.” 

“Are we sorting by title or author?” 

“So many questions,” she teases, glancing over to wink at Louis. He’s fine. Totally fine. “But title. If it starts with ‘The,’ go with the second word.”

“This sounds like what we’ll have to do in purgatory.”

“Pretty much why I wanted a partner,” Harry shrugs, opening the pizza box to grab a slice. Louis watches her eat it happily, not quite understanding how she could like such a reprehensible topping. Pineapple on a bloody pizza? It sounds satanic. “What?”

“You’re actually eating it.”

“Did you think I was messing?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure.”

She laughs, “Try a bite.”

Louis looks from Harry to her outstretched arm, holding the slice of pizza, and back to Harry again, unsure. “Is it safe?”

“I’m still breathing, so.”

“It takes a few minutes for the poison to take full effect,” he explains, still looking at the food with suspicion.

“Fucking try it, Louis.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He picks up the smallest piece, still wary of putting it in his mouth. Harry watches on, eating her own piece, amusement evident on her face. Louis figures he might as well go for it, so he does, taking a bite and praying to God he doesn’t spit it back up. Surprisingly, it isn’t terrible. It’s not  _ good _ , but it’s not the worst thing he’s ever eaten. 

“Like it?”

“Zero out of ten. Would recommend to someone without tastebuds.” 

“Fuck off,” Harry rolls her eyes. “It’s good, and you know it.” 

“It isn’t awful,” he admits. 

“What beautiful character development we’ve witnessed here today,” she sets the half eaten slice down on one of the napkins Louis brought along just in case and uses another to wipe the grease off of her fingers. He watches her move leisurely, running her hand over the thick books sitting in a pile on her step father’s desk waiting to be sorted through. “I think by the time we’re done, I will never want to see another book again.”

“Drastic measures.”

“I mean it.”

“We’ll be finished in no time, no worries,” Louis assures her, eating the last bit of his pizza slice before grabbing a napkin for himself to clean off his grease stained hands. “Looking for F’s now, yeah?”

“Mhmm,” she nods, picking up a thin maroon book and placing it on the bookshelf. Louis starts looking for titles beginning with F, not seeing many of them thankfully. They work mostly in a comfortable silence, Louis’ phone buzzing every so often with a message from Zayn and Harry humming songs that Louis can’t quite make out. Soon the minutes turn into an hour, that hour into three, and they’re finally on the bottom shelf. Harry is sprawled out on the floor, laughing happily at a face Louis made, and Louis is leaning back against the books, wondering what it might look like for him to kiss her. 

“Oh, I’ve got one,” Harry says after taking a moment to think of a question. “Have you ever stole something?”

“Interested in my criminal records now, eh? After we already slept over twice.” 

“You know what they say,” she sits up on her elbows. “Better late than never.” 

“No, I’ve never stole anything,” Louis confesses. “Have you?”

“Once, when I was in primary, my mate and I really wanted this new scary film that had just come out,” Harry lays back down, looking up at the ceiling as she tells her story. “But our mums wouldn’t buy it for us, so when we went to the shops together, he stuffed in my trousers when my mum wasn’t looking.”

“Were you caught?” 

“Actually, no. But we never watched it.”

Louis laughs, finding the courage to join Harry and sprawl out on the floor beside her. “Why not?”

“Never got the chance, really. I guess it had something to do with our parents always watching films with us. I think we did end up watching it years later, but it wasn’t any good.”

“You broke the law and didn’t even watch the film?”

“Right?” Harry laughs, turning to look at Louis. “I’m a terrible thief.” 

“You are,” he muses, trying not to explode from the sheer thought of laying so close to Harry. “Is it my turn for a question?”

“Mhmm.”

“What song have you been humming all night?” Louis asks, because he’s curious. She gives him a confused look before realising what he means. 

“Oh, a few different ones, I guess. Like, just songs stuck in my head.” 

“What ones?”

“Like,” she thinks on it. “ _ Mickey _ was stuck in my mind earlier.”

“Shit, I knew it sounded familiar.”

“If it didn’t, I would’ve had to ask you to leave,” Harry smirks, and Louis flicks her arm in retaliation. Sighing, she looks over at the bookshelf, almost entirely sorted save the last two sections. “We should finish.”

“I don’t want to get up,” he wiggles around pretending to be comfortable on the very much  _ un _ comfortable floor. Harry just laughs at him, sitting up and fiddling with the hem of her top. 

“Come on, lazy bum. Let’s get moving,” she finds it somewhere within herself to stand up and hold out her hand for Louis to do the same. He doesn’t want to, but there’s a very pretty girl offering him a chance to hold her hand, and that is not an offer Louis wants to pass on. 

“How many more books?” Louis questions, adding over-the-top dramatics to make it interesting. She shakes her head, endeared. 

“Just these two stacks. If we hurry, we can get home quickly,” Harry grabs a few books off of the pile and reads their bindings for the titles. “Want to stay at mine?”

“I’ve got work in the morning,” he confesses, grabbing large encyclopaedia of his own. “Sorry.”

“Fuck, it’s really late, then. Do you need to leave now?’

“It’s fine,” Louis ensures her, even though he doesn’t know the time or if it truly is actually fine. It isn’t like he’s a generally good employee anyway, though. So, he doubts cutting into his sleep time will actually do anything to his job performance. “It’s not like I’m a good employee anyway.”

“I bet you’re a great employee,” she giggles and looks at him. “Your manager seems to particularly enjoy your presence.” 

“First off, Nick isn’t my bloody manager. Secondly, shut up.” 

Harry’s volume increases, her laughter echoing throughout the room. Louis watches on in amusement as she quickly covers her mouth in embarrassment, glancing over at him with eyes wide. “I don’t usually do that.”

“Sure, Love,” Louis bends down to slide one of the books into its proper place, properly pleased with her reaction. “Sure.”

  
  


/

  
  


Louis is going to win Harry a goddamn toy, even if it kills him.

She shows up on Louis’ doorstep five minutes early, wearing dungarees and a lilac jumper, hair tucked behind her ear, looking far too pretty for her own good. They decide on taking the tube to the parish festival instead of driving, since traffic is a nightmare. Louis tells about his day at work, and Harry mentions her excitement for university to start back up again. When they first arrive to the festival, Louis is a little overwhelmed. He hasn’t been to something like this since he was a kid, dragging his mum straight to the rides. Being here with Harry only makes the feeling worse; he doesn’t know how to show his excitement. She doesn’t seem to be having any issues showing hers.

“Holy fuck, this is going to be so fun,” she smiles widely, looking around all the booths. She laces her fingers through Louis’, temporarily stunning him, and tugging on his arm.

“Where are you taking me?”

“No idea, but I’m sure something will look fun.”

“We should probably get tickets then, so we can play things,” Louis points to the large painted sign reading ‘TICKETS HERE’. Harry nods enthusiastically, changing their course and pulling Louis toward the booth. When they find their place in the queue, Harry doesn’t drop Louis’ hand, and Louis is trying his very best not to dwell on it. Really, sweaty anxious palms are the last thing he needs. 

The queue moves quickly and soon enough they’re the ones telling the worker how many tickets they want. Louis lets Harry decide the amount, but he refuses to let her pay for them. Pulling out his wallet, he hands over the money before she has any time to object. Harry thanks a little boy queued up behind them, sharing his candy floss with her. She’s focused fully on the child, talking to him about the things he’s done so far. 

“Have you tried any of the rides?” she questions, letting go of Louis’ hand to bend down to the boy’s level. 

“Mum says they’re not safe,” the little boy sounds disappointed about missing out, but sure enough, Harry immediately tries her best to comfort the lad.

“And she’s right, you know,” Harry explains. “They’re not fun, anyway, either. They shake you around and give you a headache. You don’t want to ride those clunky things. Candy floss is a much better choice, trust me. When I was younger, I wish someone had told me to buy sweets instead of the rides, because I wasted my tickets on the rides, and they only made me ill.”

“They make you ill?” his eyes widen with worry and shock, and Harry nods solemnly. Louis isn’t sure if she’s falling into the comfort category or more towards the Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures end of the spectrum. Either way, it’s working and the little boy’s mum seems pleased that he’s finally listening to someone about it instead of pouting. 

“Mhmm, but you didn’t hear it from me. Okay? Top secret.”

“Top secret,” the lad agrees, looking back at his mum. “Can we play another game instead?”

“Sure, Love,” the woman smiles widely, nodding. She looks at Louis and mouths, “Thank you.”

Louis shrugs, tapping on Harry’s shoulder, “Ready to go get some of our own candy floss?” 

“Of course,” she stands up, brushing grass off of the knees of her dungarees. They both wave goodbye to the child and his mum before heading on their way to find some festival food. “I’ve just lied to a kid, and I don’t feel the least bit bad about it.”

“I can’t believe you,” Louis starts. “First you steal horror films, now you’re fooling small children. I’ve befriended a criminal.”

“It’s awful, I know. Send me to prison.”

“Let’s get candy floss first.” 

She laughs and pulls her phone out of her pocket. Louis watches as she stops and turns, snapping a photo of a few of the more decorated booths with the rides in the background. “This place is pure aesthetic.” 

“Just wait ‘till it’s dark out,” Louis muses. 

Harry turns to look at him, dimples on full display. “Are we staying that long?”

“We can if you want to. It’s up to you.”

“Louis, Sweetie!” a voice calls out and, like nails on a chalkboard, making a shiver run up Louis’ spine. He had hoped they wouldn’t run into each other. But of course, Nick has probably been looking for him.

“Hey, Nick,” he gives a weak smile to the man stopped in front of him and Harry. “This is Harry.”

“Hi,” Nick nods to her then focuses his attention back on Louis. “Is it awful that I thought we wouldn’t see one another?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he grimaces, wishing he was anywhere but there.

“It’s actually great timing that I’ve found you. Fiona and I were just about to hop on the Ferris wheel. You two wanna join us?” Nick invites both of them, but looks only at Louis, who meets Harry’s eyes.

“Want to?”

She shrugs happily, “Might as well.”

“Grand!” Nick says, pleased with himself. “Fiona’ll meet us there. She had to run to the loo.” 

“Okay,” is all Louis can say.

Harry knows Louis is uncomfortable, and Louis is pretty sure Harry isn’t Nick’s biggest fan either. As they walk, she wraps her arm around Louis’ shoulder, bringing her mouth to his ear and sending the second set of shivers of the night down Louis’ back— this time for a lovely purpose and not a feeling of dread. Her breath is hot on his skin as she whispers, “His hair is bigger than your entire body.” 

Louis punches her side, “I’m offended.” 

She laughs quieter than normal, probably making an attempt to not blow Louis’ eardrum. “Just an observation.” 

“Fuck off.”

“It’s so weird to see you away from work,” Nick is attempting conversation again.

“Must be difficult for you, since you can’t tell me what to do.”

“It’s the hardest,” he puts the sort of emphasis on ‘hardest’ that makes Louis want to throw up. Harry’s mouth finds its way to his ear again.

“You’re dead ass flirting with him, you know.”

Louis shakes his head, causing Harry’s lips to brush his cheek as she laughs lightly. 

“You are.”

“What are you whispering about?” Nick questions, sounding suspiciously jealous. “You’re talking about me, Sweetie. Aren’t you?”

And God, Louis absolutely  _ despises  _ people who make everything about themselves. No matter that he’s right; he’s bloody annoying. And this “Sweetie” shit has got to end. They join the people already in the queue, and Louis can’t wait for the Ferris wheel to make its rounds so that he and Harry can escape this modern hell. 

“Just telling Louis here about a surprise I have for him later,” Harry says coyly, and Jesus Christ. He might actually be sick. 

“Fiona is taking a long time, isn’t she?” Louis quickly changes the subject, wanting to get as far away from these vomit inducing innuendos as possible. 

“She probably had to wait,” Harry supplies.

“Harry,” Nick attempts conversation for the third time. “What do you do? For work.”

“I don’t have a job right now, actually. I do help out my step-dad a lot. So, technically, that could be considered work. I’m in uni, though.”

“What are you studying?” he asks, and Louis is kind of offended that Nick asks Harry these questions, yet when he speaks to Louis (the guy he’s supposed to like), Nick can only find it in himself to make poorly executed chat up lines. 

“Veterinary sciences,” Harry spouts off. Louis could have told Nick that. He could have told him what courses Harry is taking this semester. He could have told him what teachers Harry likes and which she dislikes. He could have told him everything, really. 

“Wicked,” is all Nick says.

“Hello, everyone,” a woman, who Louis can only assume is Fiona, greets the three of them with a wave and a smile. “The queue for the loo was taking ages.”

“Fiona, this is Louis. Louis, this is Fiona,” Nick introduces everyone. “And this is Harry.” 

“Hi,” Louis and Harry greet her simultaneously, and she smiles in return.

“Are you two together?” she questions immediately, and Louis quickly shakes his head.

“No, no, no. Just friends. We’re just friends.” 

“Just friends,” Harry echoes beside him, and Louis nods along. 

“Very well, then,” Fiona laughs at them and proceeds to chat on and on about what the women she stood behind for the loo were saying. She talks long enough that by the time the four of them have given the workers their tickets and climbed inside their assigned pod, she’s only just finishing up the story. Nick gives her most of his attention, but Louis is the unfortunate recipient of his quick winks and cheeky gestures. He just stares at the ground below them and pretends it isn’t happening. 

Harry is unusually quiet as the Ferris wheel raises them higher into the air. Louis tries to catch her gaze a few times but has no success. Eventually, she turns and watches out the other side of the car. Louis isn’t sure what her silence is about, but he knows that if she’s upset about dealing with Nick and Fiona— it’s her bloody fault for saying yes, anyway. The two of them just let Fiona chat on and on about nothing in particular, Nick interjecting here and there, and don’t say much themselves. Finally, after what seems like eternity, the ride is over and Louis is free. 

He makes up some ridiculous excuse for why he and Harry need to part ways with the Dynamic Duo, and for some reason they believe him. It’s Louis’ turn to drag Harry toward a booth, and he chooses the candy floss one he wanted to go to originally. “Jesus fucking Christ, that was awful.”

“It wasn’t bad,” Harry speaks for the first time since before getting on the ride. “Fiona is nice.” 

“She doesn’t shut up,” Louis points out. “ _ And _ she’s mates with Nick, which is like… nobody in their right mind is mates with Nick.”

“He doesn’t seem awful either, really. Forward and a terrible flirt, but not awful.”

“Not awful?  _ Not awful? _ Are you serious?” he’s flabbergasted. “He doesn’t ever leave me alone. He’s a pest.”

“Nick likes you,” she states. “He isn’t a pest; he’s trying to flirt with you, and you don’t get it. In fact, you just make it worse, because you flirt back.” 

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I have expressed nothing but disgust for that man since the day that I met him,” Louis defends his honour.

“He thinks you’re flirting with him,” Harry rephrases her words, and that. Well… That is something that Louis is more inclined to believe. After all, Nick is a bloody idiot.

“Does this mean I have to start being nice to him?” he asks, worried that it very well might.

“No,” she grins. “Just watch the sass.”

“Impossible.”

“I know it’ll be difficult, but I’m sure you can manage.”

“After the pain we’ve just had to endure, I do believe that we rightfully deserve this candy floss. Don’t you?” Louis changes the subject, bored of discussing Nick. 

“As someone studying to be a doctor,” Harry begins with a small smirk. “I think that I can rightfully diagnose you with a sugar addiction.”

“Fuck off, animal doctor.” 

“Humans are animals,” she points out, and Louis laughs.

“Oh, dear God. Please never offer to perform open heart surgery.” 

“That would just be ridiculous,” Harry shakes her head, judging Louis for even suggesting it. “I’m not a cardiovascular surgeon.”

“Glad we cleared that one up,” he laughs again. “Have you got the tickets?” 

She digs a hand into her pocket and pulls out the roll of small red tickets they’d purchased, “Yes.”

“Alright, then,” Louis snaps his fingers together. “Let’s get some candy floss.”

The queue is quick, and soon enough the pair are sharing a stick of bubblegum pink candy floss, laughing and attempting to stick it to each other’s faces. Some of it ends up in Louis’ eyelashes and he isn’t quite sure how. Harry steals the stick from Louis’ hands after about three minutes and proceeds to eat the rest of it herself. Louis can’t say he blames her.

“You promised to win me a toy,” Harry reminds him, tossing the empty candy floss stick into the nearby rubbish. 

“Find me a game, and I will prove my worth.”

It takes them a bit of walking to find one, hidden away behind the food stands, but they finally do. Louis feels a sense of dread when he sees what booth it is. There’s no way he can possibly win this one; it’s rigged to make everyone lose. He tells Harry, who scoffs.

“Don’t be so scared. You’ve got this, I’m sure.” 

“This game is traditionally unwinnable. You know that, right?”

“You just don’t want to admit to sucking at it,” Harry taunts him, and well. That’s that then. Now he  _ has _ to bloody win. If not for his own pride, then for Harry’s stuffed animal collection. “If you win, I’ll let you name it.”

“Deal,” he nods once. “Gimme some tickets.” 

Harry hands the proper amount over to the worker, who gives Louis his first set of rings. The toys are hanging on hooks off to the side, and Louis watches Harry look at them all out of the corner of his eye. He figures he needs to throw one to judge how to throw the rest, so he tosses the first ring with ease. It misses, but not by much, really. Harry stops looking at the toys to watch Louis aim his second ring, a faint smile on her face— like she knows he isn’t going to win this. It makes him a little angry, gives him more of a reason to  _ have  _ to win. “Gonna throw it?” she asks him after he’s held onto the ring for a bit.

“Shut up, I am trying to win you one of those bloody things,” Louis says, tossing his second ring. This one teeters on the top of a bottle for a few moments before eventually sliding off. Louis looks closely at the bottles and realises that their tops are curved outward, meaning that he has to hit one from directly above it if he wants to get the rings to stay. “I think I’ve figured this out.”

“Tell me more,” Harry deadpans. Louis flips her off playfully, lining up his second to last ring. He can do this. He’s sure of it. The worker stands quietly, looking bored as hell. Louis takes a breath and tosses the ring. He watches it fall through the air, and directly onto the neck of a glass bottle. He blinks. “Well, fuck.” 

“I won,” Louis looks over at an impressed Harry. A huge smile takes over her face, revealing her dimples and squinting her eyes. The worker yawns, and Louis takes that at a congratulations. He watches Harry’s eyes scan over all the different coloured animals before she unclips a small, stuffed, rainbow shark and holds it in her arms with a smirk. “That’s the one you want?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nods. “What’s her name, do you think?”

“Can’t name her quite yet, Love. Gotta get to know her personality first.” He can’t believe he’s discussing the personality type of a  _ stuffed animal _ , but here he is.

“She and Marjorie will get along,” Harry smirks. “Swimmingly.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

Harry laughs, holding onto the shark tightly. They thank the booth worker, who just shrugs, then find their way to a bench on the outskirts of the festivities. Harry hands the toy over to Louis so that he can get a better look at it. “You picked out a fish after telling me that you didn’t want one,” he complains. 

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for irony.”

“Did you name her yet?” Louis asks, handing the shark back.

“I was thinking perhaps Sheila,” she grins, looking at Louis. 

“Sheila?”

“Yeah, there is a large shark population in Australia. Especially white sharks, and Sheila here looks like one of them,” Harry explains.

“She’s literally rainbow.”

“Her shape,” she rolls her eyes. They stay on the bench for a little while longer, people watching and taking bets on how quickly the rides were set up and whether or not duct tape was involved. When it starts to get dark, they decide it’s probably time to start using their tickets. Harry is dead set on playing and winning at some sort of darts game, and it takes her ten tickets to realise that she’s hopeless at it and won’t be winning any time soon. “It’s another one of those rigged games,” she reasons. Louis doesn’t argue.

By the time it’s almost completely dark out and the only light is coming from the neons, they have one ticket left . Louis suggests a treat for the tube ride home, and Harry agrees. They find themselves in the queue for churros; Harry quietly playing with Sheila’s fins, and Louis quietly watching Harry. The air has gotten significantly cooler since the sun went down, sending a small chill through Louis. (Okay, maybe that’s Harry.) “Are you happy with your toy?”

“Very happy,” she looks over at him with a smile. “Thanks for bringing me along.”

“Anytime,” Louis says, attempting nonchalance and probably failing. They reach the food cart, and Louis hands the lad within their last ticket. “Churros, please.” 

“More churros,” he calls to whoever else is inside making the food. “And for you, miss?” 

“I’m with him,” Harry answers, stepping closer into Louis’ side and out of the way of the people queued behind them. Louis tries to keep his breathing steady, but Harry is close, and Harry is warm, and Harry smells like sugar, and Louis’ heartbeat isn’t listening. A particularly chilly gust of wind blows throw, sending her hair right into Louis’ face. “Ohp, sorry.”

“You’re fine, Love,” he shrugs, manoeuvring his hand around her waist. Harry fits snugly against his side, holding up her shark and slowly letting her head fall to Louis’ shoulder. He’s not freaking out, really. He’s _not._ They stay like this until a young girl brings their churros to the window, and Louis has to let go of Harry to take it. “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” the girl smiles at the two of them, and they turn around to make their way home. 

“Give me a piece, please,” Harry gives Louis a cheesy smile, and he laughs at her, grabbing one of the sugary treats and handing it to Harry. 

“There you go, your one piece. The rest is mine,” he says. “All mine.”

She sighs defeatedly, “I guess it’s only fair. I did eat all of the candy floss.” 

“You’re right. No more sweets for you, or you’ll turn into one.”

“I already am sweet,” Harry smiles wide again, showcasing all of her teeth and scrunching up her eyes. Louis shakes his head, handing over the plate. 

“Fine, eat it all.” 

“Shut up,” she laughs, holding up the rainbow shark. “Hold Sheila for a second?

“Sure, yeah.” She hands the stuffed animal over to Louis, and stops to grab her phone. “What are you doing?”

“Taking another picture,” Harry says as if it’s obvious. Louis watches her pick which bit of the scene before them she wants to capture. She thinks on it for a moment or two before finally deciding to snap a photo similar to the one she took earlier. Louis gets ready to give her back the shark when Harry turns the camera toward him, “Smile!”

Figuring he might as well, Louis holds up both the food and the shark with a grin on his face. Harry quickly takes the photo and pockets her phone, grabbing the toy from Louis again. Louis tears off another piece of a churro and tosses it into his mouth. “This was a great decision,” he humors. “Whose idea was this?’

“Mine,” Harry says with complete confidence, and Louis bumps his arm with hers.

“Liar,” he singsongs, and she tries to suppress a smile but fails to do so. Louis leans in teasingly, readying himself for more playful banter. 

“Not a liar,” she sounds distracted, but by what Louis doesn’t know.

“My idea,” Louis states. Harry meets his gaze, and Louis realises how close to her he’s gotten in the past thirty seconds. He need only get bumped from behind and their lips would knock into each other. No, this isn’t the type of thought that Louis should be having as he stands close enough to Harry for the scenario to  _ actually happen _ . Too late he comes to his senses and catches himself staring at her strawberry lips, subconsciously inching forward; he’s already been caught. Harry’s eyes are wide with surprise, and Louis can feel his cheeks staining red from embarrassment. He quickly backs up, tearing off another piece of a churro and sticking it in his mouth before he says something he might regret. “This festival was my idea.”

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice is distant again. Louis’ dread settles in his stomach. “Your idea.”

  
  


/

  
  


“You’ve replaced me,” Zayn says sombrely, standing the doorway of Louis’ bedroom looking painfully sad, if not a little drunk. 

“Pardon?” Louis glances up from the book Harry recommended him. (If asked, no, he didn’t order it five minutes after receiving a text exclaiming how good it was.) Sitting up in his bed, Louis pats the spot next to him as an invitation for Zayn to come closer.

“You went and got a girlfriend and replaced me,” he says, leaning against the doorway. “I’m not Number One anymore.” 

“I didn’t get a girlfriend,” Louis points out, because he didn’t. Harry just happens to be a friend who is a girl. The fact that they almost kissed at the festival on Friday is beside the point. Anyway, Zayn doesn’t need to know about it right now. “Besides, you replaced me with Liam.” 

“That’s different. I have sex with Liam.”

“I’m going to ignore that you said that, because you’re drunk, but say it again, and I promise I will kick your arse,” Louis warns, tone even. Zayn isn’t fazed, sighing and collapsing dramatically onto the bed beside Louis.

“Am I still your best friend?”

Laughter bubbles over Louis’ lips before he can stop it. Shaking his head, he sets down his book and runs his fingers gently through Zayn’s hair. “‘Course, you tosser.” 

“You’re always with Harry,” his tone is probably harsher than he means it to be, and Louis gives him another pass due to his inebriated state. Zayn must have had quite a lot to drink; Louis hasn’t seen him this sloshed since their first university party. It’s pretty embarrassing. 

“You’re always with Liam,” Louis points out again, twisting some of Zayn’s dark hair between two of his fingers.

“That’s different!” Zayn repeats himself, “I have se—” 

Louis sends his knee into Zayn’s side - causing him to groan in pain, yes, but he shuts up. Which is what Louis was going for, anyway. Zayn rolls over onto his stomach, swatting at him and missing. “I told you not to say that again.” 

“It’s true,” he pleads quietly. 

“I understand that you’re smashed right now, and that we can’t effectively have this conversation when you’re three sheets to the wind, but please. Have some semblance of common sense, and shut up before I knock you out,” Louis attempts to keep his tone firm, but Zayn is slowly approaching his kitten-like, sleepy state. “You’ll always be my best friend.” 

“Good,” he sounds entirely too pleased, the drunk bastard. He curls up around Louis, digging his head into one of the pillows Louis had used to build a reading nest. Something tells Louis that Zayn isn’t going to be sleeping in his own bed tonight, but he’s fine with it. Really, he misses hanging out with Zayn all the time. Ever since he found Liam, Zayn has been more and more distant, through no fault of his own, finally having someone willing to go out with him instead of having to force Louis to do so. Zayn probably feels jealous by Louis’ willingness to go out with Harry and not him. Although, in Louis’ defense, he’s told Harry no numerous times. 

“You’ll have to tell me when Liam is free next,” Louis says. “We can get together and have a lads night.”

“Liam would like that,” Zayn murmurs, half asleep already. 

  
  


/

  
  


“Our opinions of each other are about to change drastically,” Harry singsongs as she walks into her living room, dress swishing around her thighs, film hidden behind her back. 

“I’m confident in my choice, Harry. Your opinion of me will change only for the better,” Louis says, lounging comfortably on the sofa. “I’m sure. My opinion of you is a different story.”

“Fighting words,” she raises a taunting eyebrow. 

“Just the truth,” Louis smiles widely, pushing his DVD further beneath his thighs and crossing one leg over the other. 

“Show them on three?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “One, two, three.”

They both bring their films out of hiding at the same time. Louis’ eyes focus on the case Harry holds in her hands, and he can’t help but laugh. 

“Are you serious?” A grin slowly spreads on Harry’s face as she walks over to Louis and sits down beside him, grabbing the film case from his hands. “What are the fucking odds?”

“It’s fate,” Louis states, staring at them. 

“I mean,” he begins. “It’s a good movie.” 

“I didn’t think we would end up bringing the same bloody thing!” she holds up one copy of  _ Spirited Away _ , waving it as she speaks. “Does anybody even know this film?”

“Excuse me, Harry.  _ Spirited Away  _ is a classic.”

She appears to be thinking on it, and the short silence reminds Louis of the candy floss and the lights and the fucking ring toss game and the festival where they nearly kissed. This is the first time they’ve been together since then, and Louis is worried it might be awkward, but Harry’s whirlwind conversations keep them both from thinking too far into it. “Obviously,” her eyes roll dramatically. “We did both choose it.”

“Which makes it practically perfect,” Louis supplies.

“Correct,” she says with a nod of her head. “Do you know what this means, though?”

“What does this mean?”

“You need to find a new favorite film,” Harry states in an all too tongue-in-cheek way. “I liked this one first. Don’t copy.”

“Fuck off,” he shoves at her shoulder, laughing as she uses his force to propel herself up and over, standing in front of the coffee table.

“If you won’t find another, then we’ll have no choice but to watch this one twice. I’m sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

“You’re a bloody liar; you  _ did _ make the rules,” Louis calls her out on her fib, and she shrugs it off.

“Irrelevant.”

“Put the fucking film in,” he waves her off, and Harry giggles. “Word on the street is that my copy is better though, so you should put that one on.” 

She tosses the second copy aside and stands up, “After I put this in, I’ll grab us some munchies.” 

Louis watches as she walks, practically on her tiptoes, over to her telly. Her dress flows gracefully, swishing around her porcelain thighs; her curls bounce as she does.  _ A work of art _ , Louis thinks. Rivaling Degas' ballerinas— no. Degas' work is much too rough, too unfinished. Harry is Frishmuth's ‘The Vine’. If the sculpture came to life one sunny Tuesday afternoon and decided to don a baby blue dress, Louis is certain she would be Harry's doppelgänger.

“I put in my copy,” she winks at him as she sits back down. “Just so you know.”

“Of course you did,” Louis rolls his eyes. “Hey, are you going to get us those munchies you promised?”

“Shit, munchies, you're right,” Harry hops up again. ‘ _ The Vine’,  _ Louis thinks to himself _.  _ Definitely _.  _ “You alright with strawberries?” she asks, calling from her kitchen. 

“Sure,” he replies happily. 

The second trailer is almost over when Harry appears again, this time holding a bowl of fresh strawberries. She smiles wide, nestling between Louis and the pillows, and holds out the green bowl. “Bon appétit.”

“Merci,” Louis lulls, picking out a strawberry and taking a bite. “Did you put sugar on these?”

“Definitely not,” she grins, grabbing a strawberry for herself.

He hums his disbelief, “Whatever you say, Love. We could skip the trailers, you know.”

“But then we couldn't get to talk and wouldn't get to ask you how your day was,” She humors. “How was your day? First day of uni and all.”

“I had only one lecture today, actually, which was nice. I did speak with the director of The National Gallery, though. He’s interested in interviewing me for a possible internship come spring,” Louis tries to keep his smile hidden away, to appear nonchalant and unaffected, but one look at the pride and joy on Harry’s face and hiding is a lost cause. 

“That is incredible, Lou. So  _ fucking _ incredible!” she unceremoniously moves the bowl of strawberries to the small stand and pulls Louis in for a tight hug. She smells like she might have gotten some sugar in her hair when she opened the package, and Louis has never felt more endeared than this moment. They hold onto each other for a long time, Harry chattering on and on about how absolutely massive this is, and how she’s positive Louis will be chosen, and how he’s the perfect choice. Louis is just trying to focus on maintaining a steady heartbeat. 

“Harry, the film is waiting for you to press play.”

“The film can fuck off, I’m hugging my best friend,” she states, burying her nose in the crook of Louis’ neck, and well then. Zayn won’t be too pleased to hear about that. Louis decides it’ll be best to simply not let him know. 

“Can I tell you something?” Louis questions, unsure of where exactly his mind thinks it’s taking this conversation. 

“Anything.”

“Do you know sculptures?”

“I know ‘David’,” she says, letting go of Louis and sitting back to look at him. “But that’s it, really.”

“Well, there’s an American sculptor named Harriet Whitney Frishmuth,” Louis explains.

“Harriet like Harry.” The pretty girl sitting beside Louis needs to stop immediately. 

“I hadn't made that connection, but yeah. Anyway, she’s from, like, the 1920s I want to say, and she’s got this particular piece that reminds me of you.”

Her eyes look like they might be getting a tad glassy, but Louis tries not to think of the implications of that. “I remind you of art?” 

“Well, yes, all the time. But I thought of this piece today. It’s called ‘The Vine’. One of her most popular, I think. She’s got more that remind me of  you too, though.” Louis hasn’t even completed his sentence, and Harry has already whipped out her phone to google this sculpture. 

She laughs loudly, covering her mouth with her hand and looking up at Louis with amusement in her eyes. “I remind you of a naked lady? I swear to God, Lou... If you were anyone else—”

“Are you even looking at the sculpture?” he interrupts, a little miffed at her reaction. He thought this would be special; him sharing his passion with her, showing her how much she and it go hand-in-hand. “It isn’t that she’s nude. She’s dancing. Look at her. She’s in complete love with it, with performing, really, with her purpose. And it’s so obvious. And inspired. And fucking beautiful. And intoxicating— look at the grape vine in her hands. Look at her stance. Just  _ look at her.  _ She’s gorgeous.”

There’s a silence in the room. Louis thinks he may have taken it a step too far, but Harry surges forward and in two seconds flat, her mouth is on his. Louis is almost positive he’s just gone into cardiac arrest. Sugar is officially synonymous with Harry, the strawberries fully to blame for the gritty sweetness of her lips. It should feel awkward, Harry holding onto his thighs tightly for balance, their noses bumping against each other as she kisses him again and again and again. Their small closed mouth kisses make Louis’ head spin and him wonder why he hasn't told her she’s art before. 

“We should watch the movie now,” Harry murmurs, laughing and pressing a kiss to Louis’ cheek.  

“Probably,” he grins and picks up the bowl of strawberries again. “Press play.”

She crawls back over to her side of the sofa and picks up the remote to start the film. Louis holds his breath for a second, wondering if Harry is going to move closer to him or not. He lets out a small sigh of excitement and relief when she does slide onto the cushion next to him. “Are you excited for this? The movie?” she asks him, eyes crinkled by her smile. 

“Beyond excited. I’ve never had a quoting competition before, but I bet we both know this entire film by heart.”

“Alright, rule number one,” Harry states. “No talking over the movie. Quoting is meant for when you  _ aren’t  _ watching. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They keep their promise fairly well in the beginning. But as  _ Spirited Away _ goes on, and Harry somehow ends up with her head on Louis’ shoulder, they’ve both given up on staying silent — whispering lines back and forth to each other. Louis does a somewhat better job at being quiet than Harry does, but that isn’t saying much. Maybe it’s just that Harry is whispering her words into his ear.

Soon, Louis’ favorite scene is seconds away, and this is one that he can’t resist repeating aloud. 

“I promise I’ll be back, Haku,” he mimics Chihiro softly. “You can’t die.”

“What’s going on here?” Harry supplies, and Louis almost misses her saying it. 

He smiles as he thinks about the next line before he speaks over Kamajil, “Don’t you see?” Louis says, grabbing a strawberry from the container in Harry’s lap. “It’s called… Love.” 

“Is that your favorite bit?” she asks, meeting his gaze. He nods once, and she smiles. “Mine too.” 

“It’s a solid scene.”

“Want to spend the night?” The question is quiet, hesitant, and loaded. Louis takes another strawberry before answering.

“If you want me to,” he says, nonchalant. 

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

“Then sure.”

“Great,” Harry snuggles back up against him, and he can feel her smiling into his shirt. “When this is over, I’m gonna go take my makeup off and change, then I’ll be right back out.” 

“You be you,” he shrugs, snatching yet another strawberry, one of the last few remaining in the container, as they settle back into a comfortable silence. Louis isn’t entirely sure how to go about the next half an hour. Harry is going to be in her pyjamas, and she’s going to allow Louis to see her. He can only assume that she’ll be untucked by that point, as she’s already said before that she can’t fall asleep without doing so. If he’s right, then this is Harry opening up with him… Allowing him into her life in a way she previously said she was uncomfortable with, and Louis has to pretend that he’s focused on the ending of the film.

In an attempt to not make a huge deal out of it, he tries to trick himself into believing he doesn’t realise what’s happening. It doesn’t work, of course, but it’s the thought that counts. Breathe, he reminds himself. 

He’s excited, is the thing. This is Harry being comfortable enough with him to show Louis the part of herself that she isn’t quite happy with. This is the closest to a declaration of trust and partnership they’ve gotten, and Louis is in a haze over it. So lost in his thoughts and emotions, he doesn’t notice Harry leave and come back.

“Oh, this part is great,” Harry speaks up, startling Louis out of his mind and back into what’s happening around him. 

“Hmm? Yeah,” he nods, focusing back in on what he realizes are the rolling credits. Well, pretending to anyway. There's still this whole Spend The Night Thing to be accounted for in his brain. Not to mention, Harry finding her place in Louis’ side once more, this time in her striped pyjama shorts and patterned shirt.

She laughs at him, “Tired already?” 

“No, just spaced out a bit.” 

“Well, are you ready to watch this again?” she asks, picking up the remote and snuggling closer into Louis’ side. 

“That was the rule, wasn't it?” 

Harry takes that as a yes and finds their way back to the main menu to begin the film over. “Fair warning, I might fall asleep.” 

“It isn't even late,” he argues. 

“I can't watch the tele for too long without taking at least a little bit of a nap.” She yawns once, and Louis tries his best to stop himself from following suit. He can feel the softness of Harry’s small breasts against his ribs, signifying that her bra has come off, and Louis knows that she is definitely going to fall asleep soon. 

“Do you want me to wake you up if that happens?” 

“I'm fine sleeping on the sofa with you,” Harry replies softly, voice muffled by Louis’ shirt. “But if you want to sleep in a real bed, go ahead and wake me up for it.” 

“Alright. Let's press play.” 

The movie’s title sequence begins for the second time, Louis watching it just as intently as the first time and attempting to get comfortable on the sofa with Harry nestled close. By Louis’ approximation, Harry lasts about forty minutes before her breaths even and she's fast asleep. He checks the time and decides that it's a reasonable time to call it a night without finishing the film. Whether or not he wakes Harry up is his next big decision. 

Figuring that though she's taller than him, she can't weigh all that much, and he has enough faith in his abilities to carry her from the sofa to her bed. He's brave, and the endeavor doesn't seem too dangerous (Harry has a wide hallway and a low bed frame; they’ll be fine). Louis maneuvers himself off of the furniture, without waking up the sleeping girl, and miraculously is able to pick her up bridal style— “Mother _ fucker _ ,” he hisses as he knocks his calf against the coffee table. 

Getting to Harry’s bedroom is also quite simple, though he has another close call, this time with the doorframe and Harry’s legs. Soon enough, he's gotten her into her bed, covered in blankets and snoring like a little puppy. Louis climbs in after her, thankful for the over abundance of pillows. He sets his mobile alarm for a decent hour and finds comfort in the warmth Harry is giving off beside him. Though Louis slightly wishes that she would have been awake enough for a bit of pillow talk, he almost prefers putting her to bed. 

It was simple and heart clenchingly domestic; he isn't quite sure Harry will be all too thrilled to hear about it in the morning. But whatever, he figures. Who was he to wake a sleeping princess, anyway? 

  
  


/

  
  


“Did you carry me here?” 

“I did.” 

“How cute,” her nose scrunches up teasingly, and she fixes the pillow beneath her head. “You need to brush your teeth.” 

“Oh, and you don't?” Louis challenges, knocking his ankle against one of Harry’s legs. She yawns and grins.

“Obviously not.” 

“Hate to break it to you, Love. Even you fall victim to morning breath.” 

“It smelt nicer when I was turned the other way, and you weren't talking into my face.” she states, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Roll over, then.” 

Harry complies, twisting around to the other side and snuggling back into Louis once more. She's mastered the art of making herself smaller, and Louis holds her close, reveling in her body heat. “Do you want breakfast?” she asks, fiddling with Louis’ fingers settled by her tummy. 

“What time is it?” 

“Too goddamn fucking early for a Wednesday morning that I don't have class.” 

“Go back to sleep.” he says quietly, closing his own eyes to prepare for falling asleep again himself.

“Shh, stop talking. M’tryna sleep.” Harry’s words mush together, and Louis bites his lip on a smile. 

“Shut up.” 

“I said ‘shh’.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” 

She turns her head to look at Louis, accidentally getting some of her hair in his mouth, before asking, “Breakfast when we wake up?” 

  
  


/

  
  


“Here’s to you, Louis,” Zayn raises his shot glass dramatically. “Since you're always fucking off to be with Harry, and I never see you anymore.” 

“You know, you're gone just as much as he is,” Liam helpfully points out. Zayn shoots him a dirty look.

“Hey. You. Nobody asked.” 

Louis laughs, clinking his own shot glass against Zayn’s. “Here’s to me.” 

Earlier that afternoon, Zayn had barged into their flat and demanded that Louis cancel any of his plans, because they were going out. Luckily, Louis hadn't had any plans anyway, so going out worked well in his favor. It also made Zayn smile like a madman when Louis said he would come out with him and Liam. The couple picked the bar, and Louis agreed happily. Now, several hours later, the trio is sat on stools attempting to feel as good as a flood of alcohol into their system will allow. 

“Seriously though,” Zayn says after taking a shot. “Talk to me, bro. Where have you been?” 

“Where have  _ I  _ been?” Louis laughs. “Where have you been? I never see  _ you  _ anymore. You practically live at Liam’s.” 

“Liam and I are dating.” 

“Harry and I are —” Louis stops there, realising that he actually isn't sure what he and Harry are doing exactly. “Allowed to spend time with each other.” 

“Wait,” Liam interjects. “You aren't dating her?” 

“Listen. I do not have enough alcohol in my body to discuss this. Let’s drink; we’ll talk later.” 

This pacifies Zayn, who seems completely down with getting smashed. Liam is slightly more hesitant, but still obliges. Louis just orders another shot. And another. 

And another. 

And another. 

“I could drink every day, and I would live the happiest of lives.” Louis smiles peacefully, two hours after he had his first drink of the night. “Some people call that a problem. I call it revolutionary.” 

“We’re too young to be this dependent on liquor.” 

Louis laughs loudly at Liam’s statement, tears pricking his eyes. “Do you not know what uni is? What uni  _ does to you _ ? Do you not understand, mate? Alcohol and revision are a student’s main pastimes.” 

“I need to piss,” is what Zayn contributes to the conversation before standing up and finding his way to the loo. 

“Do I work tomorrow?” Louis asks himself. “I do not. Oi, mate!” he calls the bartender over and orders a tequila sunrise. He's drank an over abundance of tequila in the past several hours, but really, it's okay. He's having fun with the lads. 

Liam jumps on the mixed drink bandwagon, ordering a mojito for himself and one for Zayn who hasn't returned by the time it arrives. In the back of his mind, Louis is a tad worried, but he also knows Zayn is fine. To prove this point, he comes back two seconds later, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his new drink. 

“Did you get this for me?” he asks Liam, clearly touched by the kind act.

“Of course, babe.” 

“Liam, I love you so much, you know.” 

Louis cackles loudly, then laughing at the noise he made. Zayn is an extravagant drunk, and Louis is having the time of his life watching him when a terrible idea pops into his mind. “You know what we should one hundred percent do right now?” he smirks. 

“What?” Zayn asks, taking a sip of his mojito.

“Karaoke.”

“Oh, bro, y—”

“You know what we should one hundred percent  _ not  _ do right now?” Liam interrupts, and his boyfriend looks over at him. “Karaoke.”

“I have no time for you,” Zayn turns back to Louis, who is trying his best to disguise his laughter. “You, however. Yes. Karaoke!”

“I’m trying to protect your dignity, babe.” Liam attempts an explanation, but Zayn is far from listening to him. He motions for the bartender to come back down to them, and he leans against the bartop to talk to him. 

“Do you happen to have karaoke?”

“You know, we used to have it. But then things got out of hand, and we had to get rid of all the karaoke equipment.”

“ _ Dam _ mit,” Zayn swears. “Motherfucking Christ. I was so hoping. Damn.”

“You could just sing to us,” Louis pipes up, snickering. 

“Oh, a serenade… Good think, good think.” 

And, God. Louis just knows this is going to end beautifully. He watches on as Zayn takes another sip of his drink before setting it down and turning toward Liam. Zayn places his hand on Liam’s knee, and leans in closely to begin singing. Louis doesn’t know what song he expects, but he isn’t sure that the string of words flowing from Zayn’s mouth are actually a song at all. They don’t sound like much of anything recognisable, only embarrassingly broken English. 

“That’s beautiful, babe.” Liam coughs once, disguising his laughter. It only urges Zayn further, standing up and grabbing Liam by his waist. 

“And I,” he finally begins singing something Louis can understand, and within two seconds of Zayn holding the note, Louis loses it, laughing into his hands. “will always love you.” 

“Louis, this is not funny.”

“You know this is funny, Liam. You know.” 

Zayn attempts to tug on his boyfriend’s shirt (with every intention of getting rid of it), and that’s when Liam sternly cuts him off. “Alright. You’re officially done for the night, babe. No more for you. Sit down, and drink some water.” 

“Actually, I need to piss again. So, I’m going to go to that.” 

“Okay. When you come back, you’re drinking water for the rest of the night.”

“You’re no fun,” Louis whispers under his breath. “Killjoy.”

“He’ll thank me in the morning.”

“I won’t. I was looking forward to him being a complete mess,” he complains, taking a drink of his tequila sunrise. 

“Precisely why he’ll thank me.” 

Louis grumbles in response.

Liam coughs into his sleeve, “So, you and Zayn have roomed together for a long time, yeah?”

“A few years now.”

“That’s always fun, you know. Having a constant roommate. I wish I had one of those, you know? It would be nice to have someone to go home to every day.”

Louis knows where this is going. He can smell the domesticity on Liam from a kilometre away; he isn’t fooling anyone. This is the first step in Zayn moving in with him. Well, technically Step Two. The first step was getting him to spend the night more often than not, getting him used to the idea of living with Liam. Approaching the Roommate is the second stop on Liam’s journey, and he might have been attempting subtlety, but he failed miserably. 

“It is. It  _ really  _ is. Zayn is a  _ lovely _ person to say good  _ morning _ to, and eat at the table with, and watch films with, and get drunk on the weekdays with, and smoke with, and say good _ night _ to.” He’s probably overdoing it, but it’s for the best. If Liam wants to take Louis’ roommate away from him, then he’s going to suffer before it happens. Especially if he thinks he’s going to skirt around the question without really asking Louis straightforward. 

“Yeah…” 

“And Zayn is excellent with cleaning, honestly. You wouldn’t think so, but he cleans everything happily.” Okay, that one is a lie, but Louis is going to ride this until it completely runs out. 

“Oh, that’s nice.” Liam finishes off his drink, pushing the glass away from him. “I’m gonna go check on him, see if he’s alright.” 

Louis isn’t the greatest at reading people, particularly in sexual situations. But he knows Zayn’s lingo well enough, and he’s definitely drunk enough to see that Liam might possibly be on his way to get up to something once he finds his boyfriend. 

“He’s drunk off his arse, you know. Remember that before you think of trying something,” he warns Liam, trying to sound as serious as he can while stumbling over a few words. 

“Absolutely. I’m not going to try anything, I promise.” 

“Just making certain… I don’t know how easily you sexual folks get riled up, but I know Zayn, and he’s a bit of a slut when it comes to you, you know. Probably, you probably know that.” Louis says the last bit more to himself, thinking over what he’s saying. 

“Louis, just sit here and drink your tequila. Don’t talk anymore.” 

“I’m trying to be helpful!” he argues his case. “I don’t want him hating you for forever, or you hating yourself.” 

“Thank you for that.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Just… hush.”  

Liam darts away on a mission to find his boyfriend and make sure he’s alright. Louis focuses back in on his drink, on a mission to finish it and order seven more. There’s a buzz from his pocket, where his phone resides safe and sound, away from his drunk fingers. He knows he put it there with no intention of using it except in emergencies, but he can’t resist pulling it out and checking his messages. One new text from Harry, apologising for not replying sooner as she had been busy. 

Louis decides that this is the perfect time to let Harry know of his frustrations about Liam and Zayn. So, he quickly types up a message and proofreads it multiple times before giving it the okay and hitting send. 

_ liam wants zayn to move in wuth him there gross aren’t they _

He notices his typo and horrendous grammar too late, and with a shrug, he takes another sip of his drink. It’s not the worst text he’s ever sent drunk. There are a few accidental nudes floating around in cyberspace somewhere. Once Zayn found one on this shoddy porn site. It was supposed to be all submissions or sommat, Louis doesn’t know how porn sites works. Honestly, it was probably Tumblr. Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s actually positive it was Tumblr. Year eleven was wild. 

His straw begins to make those godawful empty noises, notifying him that his drink is out, and he is in need of another. Motioning for the bartender, he orders another one and drums his fingers on the bartop. He gets an odd look from a bulky blond down the bar who has been side eyeing his drink choices the entire night. “What?” he asks him, kind of wanting to see if he could get in a fight and win. 

“Nothing,” the man mutters judgmentally. 

Louis sneers at him, taking a sip from the drink he knows is earning him the disgust from this older man. “Grenadine has no gender. Fuck off.” 

“I was fine, Lou,” Zayn interrupts before the man can reply. He sits on the stool beside Louis, leaning in and resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder. “Why did you send Liam after me?” 

“I didn't send anyone anywhere.” 

“You missed me,” he grins lazily. “You did.”

“So much,” Louis nods, drinking more.

“You missed me more than you miss Harry, didn’t you?” 

“Of course,” he says. It’s just his luck when a notification glows up his phone screen, alerting them both that Harry has replied to Louis’ text message from earlier. 

Zayn scoffs, shoving Louis’ shoulder and looking to Liam. “He just doesn’t fucking care anymore. It’s all  _ Harry Harry Harry _ . It used to be  _ Zayn Zayn Zayn _ . I miss that.”

“Obviously you miss that, you brat. You’re possibly the most self centred arse I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” Liam laughs at him, shaking his head. 

“I’m not always  _ Harry Harry Harry _ , Zayn. I like to spend time with her, sue me.” Louis picks up his phone, using his thumb to unlock it. “What should I reply? I want to be funny, but also I don’t want to come on too strong. You know?”

“Okay,” Liam snatches the phone away from him. “You’re not using your phone for the rest of the night.”

“Why are you so fucking  _ parental _ ? Calm down. Drink something, for God’s sake.” Louis pouts around his straw, angrily glaring at Liam out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re not going to talk to Harry right now,” he explains as he sets the phone face down on the bar. Louis scoffs. 

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll text her, then the next thing we know you’ll be on the phone in tears, declaring your undying love for the poor girl,” Liam states this as a fact, even though Louis begs to differ. He wouldn’t do that.

“I’m not going to call Harry.” He pronounces every syllable clearly, emphasizing each word evenly. He’s going to get his point across, Liam is going to give him his phone back, and Zayn is going to stop snickering behind him. But first, he’s going to finish his drink. 

“You’d call Harry, and you’d be all like ‘Oh, Harry. I love you so much. Have my babies. I want you to have my children, Harry. And dogs. We’ll get those too.’ That’s what you’d do,” Zayn laugh turns into a disgusting snort, making Liam laugh too. 

“So what if I want dogs with Harry? People want dogs with other people, okay,” Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s only natural.” 

“Psst,” Zayn whispers loudly and Louis turns to see what he wants only to find that he’s motioning to the bartender and not him. “Come here. Come here.” 

He watches the bartender walk over with a smirk on his face to listen to what Zayn has to say. “Yes?”

“My boyfriend doesn’t want me to drink anymore, but this is important. I need you to make me a manhattan. Can you do that for me?”

“Can I do that for you?” the bartender repeats with a grin. 

“I can fucking hear you Zayn,” Liam interrupts with a shake of his head. “Please, don’t give him anything else with alcohol in it. I’ll tip you extra.” 

“What's that about an extra tip Liam?” Zayn glances over at his boyfriend, resting his chin in his hand. “Finally asking someone for that double penetration you've been begging for?"

The bartender makes Zayn a manhattan.

  
  


/

  
  


Even after all the nagging that  _ Louis _ is never home, Zayn fucks off to Liam’s once they leave the bar. Louis is left to walk the rest of the way back to their flat alone, the chilly air sobering him up only somewhat. It isn’t that far away, really, so the walk is short. Nobody bothers him, and he only trips twice. It’s a relatively uneventful experience, but Louis sighs in relief the moment he steps into his warm flat and can finally take off his shoes. 

Finding the lightswitch is a tad difficult, but he manages. Changing into his pyjamas is even harder, and he gives up halfway through. He hops out of his jeans, sending him falling onto his bed and his phone flying across the floor. He laughs at himself and rolls his way over to pick his phone up and hope the screen didn’t crack. It didn’t, but there’s a new message from Harry that gets him more excited than it probably should. At this point, he’s decided that he no longer cares about what he ‘should’ be doing. 

_ I’ll get a dog with you, but only if I can name it. Sleep tight!!! :) _

  
  


/

  
  


“What are you thinking?” she asks, leaning over her menu to look at Louis’. 

“Well, this cheesy broccoli soup looks good, but I can’t ruin my image like that.”

Harry laughs lightly, and Louis glances up to see her smile. “I won’t tell anyone about it.” 

“Promise?”

“Pinkie.”

“Alright then, that’s that. What about you? Any thoughts?” he asks her. When Harry called him this morning and asked if he wanted to get lunch together, he couldn’t say no. She’d suggested this cutesy sandwich shop close to her university, and Louis thought he might as well. 

“Greek salad,” Harry shrugs. “Obviously.”

“I should have known. I honestly don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything else. Do you eat anything other than greek food?” Louis teases her, setting down his menu and taking a drink of his water. 

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I can’t believe I’m about to order soup. You’ve turned me into a new man, Harry. Never in a million years would you see Louis Tomlinson getting anything other than the greasiest, most delicious foods. Hey, wait a second,” he pauses. “Don’t you have classes today?” 

Harry grins and nods, “I had a class just before I got here. My other lecture got cancelled, because professor is ill with something. I’m not sure what, but whatever it is, bless it. I did not want to sit through that lecture this week. It’s so dull, all I do is color all over my notes. Sometimes it makes me not want to keep studying veterinary sciences. I don’t want to be bored forever.”

“Is it just that one course that bores you?” 

“For the most part,” she shrugs. “Sometimes other ones get a little dull, but it’s never too bad.” 

“Just remember that they give the shittiest classes first, so that they can weed out those who don’t actually belong in the program. If you’re truly interested in animals, then these classes are just a small bump in the road. If you aren’t as interested as you thought you were, that’s a different story.” 

“Right…” Harry looks down, watching herself fiddle with a napkin. “Let’s talk about something happier, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Like these dogs you want with me,” she says with a smirk. Louis’ face falls into his hands.

“I thought we agreed we’d never talk about this.”

“I was thinking maybe we could get a corgi or two. We could name them Noodle and Frank.” 

Their server comes in the nick of time, saving Louis from further embarrassment. He had called Harry when he woke up the morning after going out with Zayn and Liam, apologising for Siri accidentally calling her the night before. She swore that she hadn’t been bothered and hung up right away, but obviously she’s lied. They order their soup and salad, the server takes away their menus, and Harry dives right back into tormenting Louis. 

“Or perhaps something classic like a golden retriever. She could be cute. Oh my god, Lou, let’s rescue a dog.”

“I’m going to rethink my puppy proposition if you keep this up,” Louis mumbles. He isn’t angry, just really fucking endeared. 

“We’ve already got plants, what’s a puppy?”

“ _ You _ have plants.” 

Harry laughs, “Marjorie hasn’t listened the same since you’ve started helping out sometimes. You’re her new favorite.” She looks slightly miffed by that, and Louis takes a sip of his drink. “She misses you, by the way. You haven’t been over lately.”

He snaps his head up, looking around in utter amazement. “You nut, I was over two days ago.” 

“You haven’t been over lately,” she repeats with a pouty frown. 

Louis tries to hide his wide smile, probably failing. “I’ll be over today if you’d like that.” 

“Marjorie would like that,” Harry purses her lips. She looks too pleased with herself.

“Why are you so happy today?” he raises a curious eyebrow, looking at her in an attempt to figure it out. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You’re just… very happy.”

“People can be happy, Lou. I thought you knew that,” she says. Louis rolls his eyes at her, not pushing the subject further. Ignoring it, when he knows full well Harry wants to talk about it, is going to get him farther in the conversation. Harry can’t keep a secret to save her life, exploding every time she isn’t allowed to say something she really wants to say. She’s got that look upon her, anyway.

“Fair enough. How’s your family?” he asks to change the subject. 

“They’re doing wonderfully, actually. Mom is great, Gemma is great, Robin is great. They’re all doing well.”

Louis nods in response, rubbing his finger around the ring of his drink glass. They’re both quiet for a little while, comfortably although Louis is still curious about what’s got Harry more giddy than she usually is. 

“What is it?” he finally bursts, not able to keep up the act any longer. 

“What’s what?” Harry takes a drink of her water, but Louis can still see her clearly smirking.

“I’ll leave,” he threatens and goes to stand up. Harry is quick to grab his wrist, eyes wide.

“No, don’t! Stay!”

“Tell me, then!”

“I’m getting my surgery,” she blurts out. Louis freezes for a second, processing the news.

“Like…  _ the  _ surgery?”

Harry nods, her smile returning and her eyes glossing over. Louis puts his hand on Harry’s hand holding his wrist. He stares at her for a little while, watching her revel in pure happiness, tears beginning to fall from her cheeks. “I was accepted, and Robin said he would pay for it all.”

“When?” 

“This summer,” she says with a giddy laugh, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Louis just stares a little longer, unsure of what exactly he wants to say. “Can I hug you?”

“What?” Harry scoffs at him. “Yeah, of course.” She stands up and Louis follows suit, pulling her close to him and hugging her as tightly as he can. She smells like vanilla and berries, and her cheek is salty with tears of joy where he presses his lips to it. “I’m so happy, Lou. I’m so fucking happy.” 

Her shoulders shake with laughter, and Louis can feel fresh tears falling down her face. He’s so focused on holding Harry tightly and the feeling of warmth that he doesn’t realise some of the tears are his own. They look like loons, grappling each others’ clothes to hold one another closer, faces wet with happiness and love, all the while in the middle of a cutesy sandwich shop and waiting for goddamn soup and salad to arrive. 

“Harry, I can’t… I just… This is so amazing,” Louis talks into her hair, running his hand over the curly strands over and over again. “I’m so happy, I can’t even imagine. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you love me,” she says, burying her face in Louis’ shoulder. 

“I really fucking love you, Harry. And I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you too,” she responds, and Louis wasn’t ready for that. There’s a pang in his chest, the nice kind of feeling when you know that there’s nothing that could make a perfect moment any better. He’s about to say something cheesy when an awkward cough interrupts their interlude. They let go of each other, and Harry straightens out her dress as their server stands there and blinks twice.  

“I’ve got your food right here, guys,” he says, awkwardly, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. There’s probably no protocol for two crazy students crying themselves into a puddle of happy tears in the middle of the restaurant. 

“Thank you so much,” Harry graces and wipes under her eyes. They sit back down, both with permanent smiles plastered onto their faces. Louis watches Harry take a deep breath before picking up her fork and taking a bite. He looks down at his own food, the soup appearing as delicious as it had sounded and still as out of character as it was when he ordered it. They eat in a quiet peacefulness that Louis can’t quite explain, and when they’ve finished Louis foots the cheque and helps Harry into her jacket. She gives him a quick, happy kiss before they leave the sandwich shop.

It seems chillier outside than it was when they arrived, and Louis zips up his coat further to make up for it. His hand finds Harry’s about halfway to her flat, which feels nice. He reminds himself that they’ve both said they love each other, and that’s really the only thing he’ll ever need to know and believe for the rest of his life. 

Harry has just found out that she’s going to finally be in a body that she’s completely comfortable with, and she invited Louis to lunch just to tell him about it. He’s never felt so honored and loved, truly. His thoughts consume him as they walk to Harry’s, resulting in them not talking, but he doesn’t mind at all. And he can tell Harry doesn’t mind either, really. They’re both happy. 

  
  


/

  
  


Louis is with Harry when she gets the call that Niall is going to be in town. 

She immediately goes into planning mode, picking a date and time to throw a party almost three seconds after Niall tells her when he, Patrick, and Eva are getting in. Louis is put in charge of theme ideas, and she even recruits Zayn and Liam to assist in purchasing all the alcohol her party is going to need. It’s almost two weeks away, but when she and Louis arrive back at her flat, she starts rushing around, cleaning. 

“All my plants make a party so goddamn difficult,” she mutters to herself.

“Not difficult at all, really,” Louis interjects. “How many people are you planning on inviting?”

“Everybody, Lou. Everybody is fucking invited. Niall is in town, this isn’t a party. This is an extravaganza.” 

“It’s extra, alright.”

“Did Zayn reply yet? I need to know if I have to ask somebody else,” she moves on to the next bullet point on her checklist. 

“He said that he and Liam can help, yeah. They just need to know what you want, and they can get it.”

“Alright, tell him that I’ll get them a list by Tuesday.”

“Okay,” Louis says. He texts back to Zayn, telling him what Harry said and also telling him that Harry is a nutjob. “Not to change the subject, but don’t you have to revise?” 

“Irrelevant,” she waves him off and picks up clothing articles that have found themselves scattered on the floor. 

“You’ve never met Zayn drunk, have you?” he asks her. 

“I’ve only met him once, remember? I don’t think he was drunk at one in the afternoon.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” Louis laughs. “Anyway, he’s a hilarious drunk. You’ll love him, I promise.”

“Yeah?” she disappears down the hall to put the clothes in her hamper before reappearing empty handed. “What about Liam?”

“Eh. He’s a hit or miss, really. You might like him, you might not. He gets really uppity when he drinks, actually. I don’t really understand it. Like, alcohol is supposed to make you chill out, isn’t it? He’s the exact opposite of that.” 

“That’s no fun,” Harry comments. She’s only half paying attention, instead typing away on her phone, probably making more plans for the party that’s two Fridays from now. 

“Do you really have to get all of this set up right now?” he questions, sort of whiny although he doesn’t mean to be. He knows this is important to her, but they had planned on hanging out together today. 

“Just one more thing, I swear. Then I’ll worry about the rest later,” she promises. 

Louis sighs with a nod and sits down on the sofa. Harry has a silent conversation with someone Louis probably doesn’t know for a few minutes longer until finally her phone is put away and she’s launching herself onto the sofa to lay beside Louis. 

“I’m present now.”  

“I’m glad,” Louis smiles at her. “I love you.”

“Saying that is nice, I like it when you say it.”

He laughs lightly, motioning for Harry to slide closer to him, “I’ll probably wear it out here shortly.” 

“Never,” she says, pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“Are you excited to see Niall?” Louis changes the subject back to him, even though he would prefer a topic differing from Harry’s party planning antics. Harry was so quick to focus on the party that she never gave Louis context for it, other than Niall being in town. 

“Definitely. I haven’t seen him since that day we went to the farmer’s market. It’s been ages, and he’s in town for a week for his nephew’s christening.”

“That’ll be so nice,” he commentates. “Are you going to the christening?”

“Nah, I’ve got a party to put together, remember?” 

“How could I forget,” Louis deadpans, and Harry laughs loudly. 

“You’re such a dick. What’s got you down today, hmm? A little party never hurt nobody.” 

“Nothing wrong, actually. I just wanted to hang out with Harry, not a party planning monster.” 

“Tell it how it is.”

“You’re a complete monster when you’re planning a party.” 

“Not harsh enough,” she complains. “Be mean. Tell me how you really feel.”

Louis gives her a look. “You’re so over-the-top about it, and you weren’t listening to me at all. And it wasn’t even because you were busy with something important! The party is in two weeks… Two weeks! You needed to relax, Love. You were in overdrive for no reason.” 

“Now that we’ve determined that Louis hates Type A personalities,” she pretends to be holding a notepad that she’s writing in. “Let’s see how he reacts to screaming babies on planes.” 

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” 

“Pretending to not care that you’re mad at me.”

“No,” he sits up straight. “I’m not mad at you.”

“You sound like it,” she argues.

“Listen, I’m not mad at you, and I don’t want to get mad at you, either. So, please. Let’s stop instigating.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. Louis rubs up and down her arm gently, leaning his head to rest on top of hers. They sit there for a few moments, Louis doesn’t forgive her right away.

“Damn,” he half-laughs. “If we bicker with just the two of us, can you imagine what Niall and them go through with three?” 

“Patrick and Eva,” she fills in their names for him, grinning. “And it’s pure bravery, innit? Eva says they fight sometimes, but the key is to not pick sides if you’re the odd man out. Stay as neutral as Switzerland.”

“I don’t think that’s very good relationship advice, actually.” 

“No, probably not.”  

“Do you want to make food?” he changes the subject the moment his stomach growls at him to feed it. 

“Is your tummy talking to you? I can hear it,” Harry laughs. 

“It is. It’s being very mean, actually. Yelling at me, screaming to eat.” 

“Tummies do that, you know.”

“Apparently.” 

She stands up first, stretching then helping Louis to his feet. They make their way to her kitchen, in no real rush. It’s a self proclaimed lazy day, and they’re both taking advantage of it now. Louis’ phone vibrates, and he checks it to find a reply from Zayn.

“Zayn says okay and that he’s looking forward to boozing it with you.”

“How eloquent,” Harry shakes her head. “What do you want to eat?”

“It might sound super crazy, but you know what I’m, like, really, really craving right now?” Louis asks, feigning seriousness. 

Harry gives him a curious look, “What?” 

“Food.” 

“Oh, fuck off.” 

  
  


/

  
  


Zayn decided to get twice as much alcohol as Harry’s list had consisted of, and he’s single handedly drank all of it. 

No, that isn’t true. Zayn hasn’t drank it all single handedly, he’s had some help. His help goes by the names of Niall and Patrick. The three of them are smashed by midnight, which Louis figures, is pretty good all things considered. They laugh loudly at everything, and compliment everyone on their outfits at least five times each. Quality entertainment, Louis thinks.  

Harry has put together quite the party. Louis chose the theme, a classic toga party, of course. She thought it would be tacky at first, but she finally came around, and now looking at her final product, Harry seems pleased with herself. Louis is pleased too, and almost regrets getting bitter over her meticulous planning. Almost. 

The two have been trying to mingle while also disappearing to snog in the kitchen every five minutes. Harry’s drank her entire secret stash of cranberry liqueur, and Louis could get used to the bitter taste. Liam hasn’t arrived yet, a client had requested a later meeting and he never seems to know when to say no. Louis can’t wait for his arrival, he wants Harry to meet Liam. 

It isn’t until around one when Harry’s door opens and Liam finally walks in, carrying his own bottle of jack. He’s a sight for sore eyes, and Louis immediately drags a drunk and giggling Harry over to meet him. 

“Liam!”

“Hey, Lou. You must be Harry,” he turns to her immediately to shake her hand.

“You know, looking at you, I would never take you as a guy who’s into double penetration,” Harry comments with a smile, and Louis nearly chokes on his laughter. 

“Holy fuck.” 

“Liam, babe, I’ve missed you,” Zayn collides with Liam, hugging him tightly and kissing him square on the mouth. “How was work?”

“It was good, actually. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow if you ask me again then, okay?”

“Alright.”

“This is our cue to leave,” Harry leans again Louis, giggling. “Liam is nice, but kissing you is much nicer.”

They find their way back to the kitchen for another snogging session, Louis sat upon the counter with Harry between his legs, kissing him sloppily. “Why don’t we do this more often?” 

“We totally should,” Louis replies, pulling on Harry to lean in closer. 

“Let’s do this every fucking day,” she keeps talking, making it more difficult for them to kiss than it already was, with them both disgustingly intoxicated by the alcohol and each other. 

“Fucking hell,” a voice from across the kitchen comes with a laugh. “Is this what you two have been vanishing to do?” 

“Niall! This is my boyfriend, Louis,” Harry wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly, claiming Louis as her own. 

“I would hope so,” he says. 

“She’s my girlfriend,” Louis looks at Harry with a smile.

“Then by all means, continue. I just need to get into that cabinet for more salt.” 

“Are you doing body shots? Without me?” Harry asks, offended. 

Niall laughs again, louder than before and with a shake of his head, “No body shots quite yet. Although Sophia is out there trying to give Patrick a lap dance. He’s stuck standing for the rest of the night. Everytime he sits down, she’s fucking there!” 

“I throw great parties,” Harry smiles happily.

“Cheers to that,” Niall raises the salt shaker in the air before disappearing back out into the living room. 

“Oh my God,” Louis is struck with a brilliant idea. “I have a brilliant idea.”

“Do tell.”

“We should have a sleepover.”

Harry’s laugh is one of her loud, obnoxious numbers that make Louis’ heart swell with joy. She runs a hand through his hair with her smile still firmly in place, “A sleepover is a fantastic fucking idea. I need the loo and also to get more to drink, but I’ll be back to discuss this idea further with you.”

“And also kiss me.”

She presses a kiss to Louis’ lips, quick and gentle, before rushing off to use the restroom. He waits patiently on the countertop, ankles crossed, inspecting his nails. Deciding this would be a good time to also get a drink, he hops down and goes in search of any alcohol that might remain. He spies a complete stranger with a half a bottle of whiskey, and even though whiskey isn’t particularly a favorite of his, he decides to barter for it. 

“Can I have some of your whiskey?” he asks the brunette, who flicks her hair over her shoulder and leans in closer, a universal sign for ‘Say that again.’ So, Louis repeats himself, “Can I have some of your whiskey?”

“Sure, cutie.” The girl happily holds up her bottle for him to grab. He takes it, the taste of the alcohol burning his throat in a nice way. Whiskey isn’t his favorite by any means, but this will have to do. He takes a couple drinks before the short girl laughs and steals the bottle away. “That’s enough.” 

“Thanks, love. You’re so nice.” 

“You’re so sweet,” she presses her hand to her chest, a smile plastered on her face. “That’s the kindest thing anyone has said to me.”

“Louis,” a thick Irish accent catches his attention, and he turns to see a familiar redhead. “How’ve you been?”

Eva’s cheeks are flushed, and she looks delightfully drunk with a bottle of cheap red wine in her hand. Louis’ eyes light up at the sight of the wine, and he points to it. “Can I have some?”

“Go ahead,” she hands it over, and Louis drinks more than he should. “Have you seen Harry?”

“She’s in the loo,” he explains. “And then she’s going to get herself another drink, and then we’re going to snog in the kitchen some more. Oh, and we’re having a sleepover. Hey— you’re invited.”

“To the sleepover?” 

“Hell yeah! You, Pat, and Niall. You’re all invited, it’s gonna be grand.”

“When is it?” she asks him, taking her wine back. 

“I’ve no fucking clue, if I’m completely honest.” 

“Lou,” Harry singsongs in Louis’ ear, resting her chin on his shoulder. “You said you would wait in the kitchen.” 

He turns around to look at her and smiles, “I’m sorry, Love. I needed a drink too, and these nice girls were helping me out, because I think the all the bottles at the bar are empty.” 

“Eva, you’re so kind to look out for him,” Harry thanks her friend graciously. “Did he tell you that we’re having a sleepover?” 

“We were just discussing that.” 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great. We want to— whoa, hey. Who unplugged my faerie lights?” 

The three of them look around to find the culprit who turned the room completely dark. A group of people are waving goodbye and walking out the door, but they don’t seem like the kind of people who would turn off the lights before leaving. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Liam’s voice comes from out of nowhere, and Louis searches for him. He pops up suddenly near the wall, hands up in apology. “I accidentally knocked it and the cord fell out.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time he made something fall out,” Zayn interjects with a snicker. Liam’s face reddens, and he shies away from the attention people are giving him. 

“He’s so mean to Liam,” Harry notes sadly. 

Louis just shrugs, “Only when he’s drunk. And then he’s just mean in general.” 

“Anyway, back to this leepover. Leepover,” she scoffs at herself. “That isn’t a word. Let’s try  _ sleep _ over. Back to this sleepover.”

“Hey, guys, want to play truth or dare with us?” a blond guy Louis has never seen in his life asks them.

“Why the fuck are we playing truth or dare? We are not children.” 

“So, no truth or dare for you,” the guy backs off. “Okay, then.” 

Harry and Louis laugh at his offense, and go back to chatting with Eva. Distractions in the form of goodbyes, more alcohol, silly thoughts, and Harry wanting to kiss Louis every other sentence make it difficult to get any planning done in regards to a sleepover. In fact, by the time Patrick collects Eva to leave, Louis is pretty sure the idea has been given up on. By three in the morning, the only ones left in Harry’s flat are her, Louis, Zayn and Liam. The quartet of recovering drunks are attempting to clean up somewhat, but Zayn makes it difficult when all he wants to do is drink the leftover alcohol. 

“We’ve got to save it, you idiot,” Louis reprimands when he catches him the first time, trying to sneak sips from one of the half full bottles of tequila.

“There are two other bottles of the same shit over there. Calm down,” he argues, but Louis will hear none of it. He takes it away from Zayn and puts it in Harry’s liquor cabinet next to the other bottles Zayn had been talking about.

Cleaning up all of the empty bottles and cups takes probably another hour, each of them yawning more and more with each passing minute. When they’ve finished, Zayn and Liam say their goodbyes and make soft promises to be back tomorrow if Harry and Louis need any help doing a full cleaning. It feels to Louis as though this flat is both his and Harry’s, and it’s nearly five in the morning— much too late to think about what that feeling might mean. 

When their friends have finally left, Harry sighs loudly and stretches her arms over her head. Louis watches as she falls down onto the sofa, eyes closed and smile soft, “This was fun.”

“Let’s go to bed,” he suggests and she nods. 

“Yeah. Help me up?”

He reaches out a hand and assists her in standing up, receiving a grateful kiss on the mouth for his efforts. Harry doesn’t let go of his hand, instead tugging him along down the hall to her bathroom. She goes about her nightly routine, Louis trying his best to not stare at her. 

A couple weeks ago, Harry surprised him with a toothbrush that he could keep here and use whenever he sleeps over. So, he decides that in order to not focus on what Harry is doing, he would need to brush his teeth. He grabs the purple toothbrush from its holder and finds the toothpaste amidst the mess of containers all over the counter. 

“You don't have pyjamas, do you?” she asks as she washes the makeup off of her face. 

“I figured I would just use what I'm wearing,” Louis looks down at his t-shirt and skinnies. “Well, the shirt, anyway.” 

Harry smiles widely, dropping her washcloth and disappearing from the room. Louis is confused, but continues to brush his teeth. He can hear her rummaging through something before she appears in the washroom doorway, holding a pair of pyjamas with what looks like lemons all over them. “These are for you.” 

“Please stop buying me things,” Louis says, spitting out the frothy paste and rinsing his toothbrush. 

“Don’t mind it,” she shrugs. “I like buying you things, and now you’ve got pyjamas for when you sleep over.” 

“Seriously, I don’t want gifts. Okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Consider these a part of the Harry Styles package. Be my friend, and you’ll win a fucking toothbrush and some pyjamas. If it makes you feel better, they came in a set,” she sets the clothes down on the counter, and slides around Louis to pick up the washcloth she dropped earlier. “I’ve got a pair with oranges on them now, as well.”

“Thank you.” 

“Welcome,” she smiles at him in the mirror. “We threw a party earlier.”

“We did. Well… you did.” 

Harry bumps her hip against Louis’, smiling. “Hey, you helped.” 

“I put everyone in togas.” 

“I can take you out of yours,” Harry winks at him. It isn’t her fault entirely, just messing, but Louis’ heart rate spikes and has to close his eyes to stop the sudden spinning. “Are you okay?” she places a hand on his arm. “Lou?”

“Fine,” he says with a taut smile. “Just… let’s stop the sex jokes while we’re ahead, please.” 

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry!” she’s more than apologetic, rubbing her hand up and down Louis’ arm. “Are you alright?” 

Louis’ gotten his heart rate back to normal, and his vision is no longer whirling and blurry. These bouts usually only last a few seconds, a quick thing and then he can get back to normal. It’s never a major issue, Zayn is particularly used to it and has learned what sets Louis off and what’s safeground. Harry hasn’t had the chance yet, Louis doesn’t blame her at all, but he knows that she’s kicking herself for this. “I’m good. Don’t worry.”  

“How do I make sure I don’t make that happen again?” she questions. “You looked like you were about to collapse, Lou.”

“Just… don’t… it’s hard to explain the specifics. I don’t even know all of the ins and outs of it, really,” Louis attempts to explain. It’s uncomfortable, he hates talking about it, but he knows that they either talk now or they’ll have to talk later. “I just know that things like… what you said… even if they’re harmless, Babe. I know you were being harmless and fun, I know you didn’t mean to do anything. And I know that this really isn’t that big of an episode, and really shouldn’t be too drastically discussed.”

“Stop, this is important. I don’t care if it’s been worse. That’s what I’m trying to help you avoid, here.”  

“Wow, things like this just completely take away any leftover drunkenness you have, don’t they?” he tries to change the subject, lighten the mood. Anything but talk about this, really. Avoidance is key. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Harry is quiet, and Louis takes that as a sign that she’s finished. He puts down his toothbrush and picks up the pyjamas. 

“I’ll put these on, right quick.” 

“We’ll match in five minutes,” she looks pleased with herself. 

“Sisters, not twins.” 

“With pictures to commemorate?” Harry half asks, half tells. Louis smiles at her and nods before moving into the hall to swap his clothes for the ones Harry gave him. They’re warm, like she just took them out of the dryer, and soft. The top is a tad big on him, and the sleeves cover half of his hands. He rolls his eyes about it. Harry peeks her head out into the hall to look at him, and grins wide. “How cute.” 

 

/

  
  


They’re burrowed beneath blankets and quilts, snuggled against pillows and each other. Harry has her phone light glowing from behind her to light up their small, sweaty cavern. She’s got Louis’ phone in her hands now, and Louis is pretty sure she’s taking selfies. They haven’t talked for a few minutes, letting their laughter simmer for a bit as they calm down and get comfortable. Louis closes his eyes for a split second before Harry’s shoving the phone in his face, showing him something.

“What?”

“I took a picture of you. It’s Instagram worthy.” 

He squints to focus before taking his phone out of her hands. Sure enough, there he is, eyes closed and forehead slightly sweaty from the warmth. “I don’t have an Instagram, Love.” 

“How primeval. I’ll put it on Instagram, then.” 

“Alright,” Louis sighs and closes his eyes again as Harry takes the phone back. 

“Sometimes,” she says quietly. “ _ All  _ the time, actually. People will say things to me or about me, and I’ll be terrified for my life, honestly. Nothing too major has been said, but it’s the implications. You know? It’s scary. That people don’t like something about the way that I am. I’m not always passing, and it frightens people. It fucking shouldn’t, but it does, and that frightens me.”  

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“I know we don’t talk about the serious things. Tonight was the first time something has truly ‘come up’, really. But I want to talk about these things with you. They’re apart of my life, they’re apart of yours. And if we’re going to be together, then I want to know everything about you. Even the bad or boring bits. Alright?”  

“Sex makes me extremely anxious,” Louis says slowly. “And especially when people like you say things, people I’m with. Because, eventually, my anxiety over it will interfere with your personal needs. And I can’t do anything about it except watch you leave.”

“Louis, I’m not going to be the one to leave you because you aren’t comfortable with something as trivial as sex.” 

“You say that now, but it always happens,” he shrugs. “I’m used to it. People think it’s important, and they want it. I can’t blame them, really. I wouldn’t blame you.” 

“I’ve gone almost twenty years without it, and could easily go another thirty.” 

Louis opens his eyes to look at her for a moment, “Interesting.” 

“Is that shocking to you?” she asks, eyebrow raised. 

“Unexpected, morelike.” 

“Fuck you for assuming that anyone who isn’t ace automatically wants to have sex,” Harry says harshly, and with a smile, so as to add insult to injury. 

“I’m sorry that people are prejudiced arseholes to you. They don’t fucking know you, and they don’t have a right to say anything about you at all.” Louis changes the subject, focusing on what Harry’s divulged instead of himself. 

“It’s almost seven o’clock in the fucking morning, Jesus Christ.”

“I like your pyjamas.”

“I want to kiss you goodnight whilst saying good morning.”

“A rare feat…” Louis muses, shuffling closer to Harry, removing the gap and uncovering their heads so they can finally breathe fresh air. “Goodnight,” he says, kissing Harry.

“Good morning, Lou.”  

  
  


/

  
  


“How do I look?” she asks, dancing around in a circle so that Louis can see the whole outfit. The dress fits snugly, hugging Harry in all the right places, accentuating her curves, and it’s fucking  _ rude _ is what it is.  

“You look amazing,” Louis smiles over his salad, stabbing at the leaves for another bite. “Really shows off your figure.”

“Oh,” Harry grabs her boobs playfully, “you mean these?” 

“Yes, actually,” Louis laughs. “Those look particularly fantastic.” 

“Thanks, I grew them myself.”

He chokes on the olives and lettuce, covering his mouth as he tries to stop laughing. Harry joins in, giggling as she lets go of her breasts and walks toward Louis. “Like a fern,” Louis says.

“What?”

“You said that you grew them yourself like they’re little plants. Like you’re a fucking daisy, and they’re your leaves.”

“I am a daisy,” Harry argues, stealing Louis’ fork to take a bite of the salad herself. 

“Of course,” he takes the fork back. “Keep telling yourself that, Love.” 

“Are you going to come with? You should.” 

“Nah, I’ll stay here for the night. You go and have fun.” Louis hands her the fork, noticing her longing stare at the food in front of them. She takes it happily, snatching the plate and pulling it closer to her. “Not my scene, anyway.”

“I’ve seen you in the kitchen,” Harry gives him a look and a smile. “You love dancing.”

“Not in a crowded, sweaty club where everybody is on top of each other.”

“You danced with me when we first met,” she points out, and Louis nods his head, taking the salad back from her. 

“Yeah, because I didn’t want to be rude.”

Harry laughs, covering her mouth so that she’s not too loud. She gives back the fork, motioning for Louis to finish off the food before she catches her breath and speaks. “You’re a bloody liar.” 

“And maybe because you were pretty,” he divulges.

“Damn right.” Harry pushes off the of the counter and spins around to look for the shoes she dropped before she danced around for Louis. “I’m about to head out. You sure you don’t want to come?” 

“Positive,” Louis nods.

“It’s gonna be a great time,” she smiles widely, shaking her bum a little as if that would convince Louis that he should get up and go along to the club with her. 

“I’m going to sit this one out, Love.” 

“Fair enough,” she shrugs, standing up taller now that she’s got her heels on. “Can’t say I didn’t try.” 

“You tried very hard. I’m impressed. A lesser man would have succumbed to your persuasion.” 

“Fuck off,” Harry laughs loudly, shaking her head. “I’ll see you later tonight, Lou.” 

“Dance your arse off for me,” he takes the final bite of salad as she waves goodbye to him, tossing her bag around her shoulder and blowing a kiss. 

“Will do.” 

The door closes behind her, and Louis stands up to wash the dishes and put them away. Zayn messaged earlier when Louis’ shift at the diner had ended, letting him know that he was sexiled for at least tonight. He didn't mind at all, finding it an excuse to visit Harry. She already had plans for the night, but was happy to let Louis stay over even though she would be out. (He’s going to clean up a bit for her as a sort of thank you.)

The thing about Harry’s flat is that she's got a lot of stuff in it. Plants, lights, books… Everything is everywhere. Louis wants to clean, but he doesn't know where to begin, really. He decides on the kitchen, because it seems the easiest. Remembering that Harry has that expansive CD collection, he slides in a particularly classic seventies rock album to listen to while he sorts through the rest of the dirty dishes. 

Louis makes it through about four songs before he's bored of cleaning and is off to find something more interesting to do. 

He's never snooped around someone else’s home before, never even been tempted to do so, honestly. Yet, here he is, attempting to talk himself out of exploring all of Harry’s drawers. It takes some serious arguing with himself and several minutes before he decides to grab a random book off her shelves and read it. It ends up being an autobiography of a celebrity Louis has heard of before, but can’t recall from where. A couple chapters into it, and he hears a clicking from the door and suddenly it’s opening, Harry walking inside. 

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be out with your mates?” he asks her, setting the book down. 

“Probably.”

“Why are you back so early?” He watches Harry slip off her heels and hang up her bag before coming over to sit beside him on the sofa. 

“Didn’t want to leave you alone.” 

Louis rolls his eyes at her sappiness, “Go out with your friends, Harry.”

“I don’t feel like going out clubbing tonight,” she shrugs. 

“Are you about to tell me that you wanted me to come with you?” Louis gives her a look. “And that’s why you came back, because I didn’t go?” 

“Well, when you say it like that,” Harry huffs, standing up from the sofa and heading into the kitchen. “Maybe I was just tired.” 

“Okay. Go to bed.” 

“I said  _ maybe _ .” 

Louis follows her into her kitchen, leaning against one of the counters as he watches her rummage through her refrigerator. She pulls out a container of sliced cucumber and closes the door. Harry puts a slice in her mouth and stands opposite of Louis. 

“I came back because I wanted to hang out with you.” 

“I’m having dinner at me mum’s next Saturday. Would you like to join me?”

“Did she invite me?” Harry questions, eating another slice of cucumber. Louis holds out his hand for one, and Harry obliges. 

“She said I could bring a friend slash significant other if I’ve got one of those.” 

“So, I was not invited.”

“Not specifically, but you fit under the umbrella, so you should come. If you want to.”

“I can’t wait to tell the girls that I fit under the umbrella of friend slash significant other if you’ve got one of those,” Harry teases lightly. “They’ll be so jealous.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He laughs, rolling his eyes and pulling out his phone to text his mum Harry’s answer. “Would you like to come?”

“I would love to come, Lou,” she smiles wide. “I’m honored to be so cordially invited.”

Harry’s phone goes off, blaring the sounds of The B-52’s. They both look over at the counter where it lays buzzing. “Answer it,” Louis prompts after Harry stares at her phone for an uncomfortably long time. She shoots Louis an apologetic look before answering it with a light hello. 

“Yeah, I left like half an hour ago. I said goodbye before,” Harry puts her phone between her ear and shoulder, grabbing the container of cucumbers and putting it back in the fridge. “I did.” 

“Is that one of your dancing mates?” Louis whisper-asks, and she nods.

“Soph, listen. I’m going to hang up… I’m not coming back, okay? Have fun. No, no. I’m hanging up. Yes. Okay, yes I am. Goodbye… Goodbye, Soph. Goodbye.” 

He watches as Harry clicks end and sighs, shaking her head. “Wanted you back?” he questions.

She rolls her eyes and nods, “Yeah. Sophia is a complete lightweight; it’s almost annoying.” 

“Zayn’s a lightweight too. I understand how that can be bothersome.” Louis figures that Harry wants the subject to be dropped, so he says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Your ringtone is quite something.”

“I’ll play it for you,” she unlocks her phone and scrolls through, pressing play on a song that makes Louis’ ears want to bleed, honestly. It’s music like this that makes him understand why it’s 80s rock that everybody remembers fondly. Harry is singing along softly, and Louis feels bad for not liking a song that she obviously likes well enough to put as her ringtone. “You hate it,” she looks up at him, smirking.

“No…”

“You’re a shitty liar, you know.” 

“I don’t hate it,” he defends. “It just isn’t my favorite.”

Harry laughs, “I’ll admit that it isn’t for everyone. It can get pretty annoying, sure. But you’re supposed to have answered the phone before then.” 

“This is true.”

The song continues to blare, getting more and more annoying, but Harry doesn’t appear to be anywhere near ending the torment. In fact, she’s still smirking and has started shaking her shoulders to the beat. 

“Don’t,” Louis warns, laughter threatening to bubble over his words. 

Harry sets down her phone and grabs Louis’ hands, pulling him in close to dance with her. She spins them both around, and sends Louis spinning around just to pull him back in again. “Dance with me.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“I told you I wanted to dance with you,” she brings up a valid point that Louis refuses to acknowledge. Instead, he picks up her phone from the counter and thumbs himself into it. 

“If you want to dance, I want to pick the music.” 

“Pick away, Lou,” Harry smiles wide, letting go of him to dance around on her own. He finds the perfect song and presses play. “Yes!” she exclaims, clapping her hands.

They dance around with each other, spinning one another and showing off their terrible eighties style dance moves, laughing loudly and almost drowning out the music itself. Harry’s just finished a complicated, ballet-looking routine when she giggles mischievously. Louis knows he’s in for it, now.

“What?” he asks suspiciously. 

“The  _ Dirty Dancing _ final dance sequence…” she begins. “I know we’re amateurs, but so was Baby.”

“Baby,” Louis stops her there. “No.” 

“I’ll be Patrick Swayze. You can be Jennifer Grey.”

“I think you should stop while you’re ahead,” he gives her a look, trying to get across that she’s crazy. 

“Holy shit, I even have the song!” she dives for her phone and quickly turns off the song and changes it to The Time of My Life. “Alright, let’s go.”

“We don’t know the choreography to this,” Louis points out. 

Harry’s shrug turns into a shoulder shimmy to the beat, “We’ll make it up as we go along.” 

Knowing he won’t win and figuring why the hell not, Louis decides to throw caution and common sense to the wind, grabbing a hold of Harry’s hands and dancing like he remembers they do in the movie. Specifics are fuzzy, but he’s seen  _ Dirty Dancing  _ enough times for the general idea to be ingrained in his memory. 

“Have you been holding out on me?” Harry asks, following his steps. “Do you know the dance to this entire fucking song?” 

“No,” Louis shakes his head, grinning. “I just know how to dirty dance.” 

“You  _ have  _ been holding out on me,” she laughs as Louis spins her out and back in. “My kitchen isn’t big enough for this talent. Next time let’s go outside.” 

“It’s nearly winter, let’s not.” 

“Remember when you told me that you love me?” she changes the subject to one she often likes to bring up.

“Vividly.” 

“Remember when I told you that I love you, too?” 

“It’s possibly the only thing in my life worth remembering,” Louis holds up Harry’s hand to let her twirl in front of him. 

“You’re tacky as fuck, you know.”

“You’re beautiful, you know.” 

Harry smiles softly, leaning her head on Louis’ shoulder as they take to simply swaying back and forth. She attempts to play footsie standing up, and fails with a laugh. “Want to spend the night?”

“Love, that’s why I’m here.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’m glad you’re spending the night, then.”

“I’m glad I’m spending the night too,” Louis confesses. 

They’re quiet for a moment, the song repeating itself from the beginning. Harry is the first to speak up again, and she does so quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a favor, really,” she explains.

“Anything.”

“When I get my surgery, it’s going to be hard at first. I won’t know how to do anything, you know. When it comes to vaginas, I really don’t know how to work them yet. And it’s going to be awkward, too,” she talks slowly, making certain she uses the exact words she wants to. “I’ll be a toddler, practically. And I won’t always be able to do everything myself… I’m going to need a bit of assistance.” 

“Are you asking me—” 

“I trust you a fucking lot, and you’re the only person I can imagine being there and helping me get readjusted. And you can say no, but I really don’t want you to. I want you to be there, please. Help me.”

“Of course,” Louis says immediately. “Absolutely.” 

“It’s going to be weird,” she warns.

“Nothing you say is going to scare me away from wanting to make sure that you’re alright. If you need my help, I’m never not going to give it to you. I love you, you know that.” 

“Vaginas kind of look funny,” she says with a laugh.

“All genitalia looks funny, there’s no way around that, Love.” 

“Okay, but vaginas are like, really fucking strange looking.”

“Oh, good. It’ll match your personality, then,” Louis quips, and Harry punches his shoulder. “Cheers.”

“Arsehole.”

  
  


/

  
  


The wintery day that Louis learns he’s got enough money saved up to pay for his last bit of schooling is the day he skips into work, ten minutes early. 

“What’s got you so excited today?” Nick asks him, uninterested. It would seem that his newest beau has stricken Louis’ name from Nick’s memory. Instead of his signature dreadful flirting, Nick has taken to raving on and on about his boyfriend Tom. It hasn’t made working any more bearable. 

“I quit,” he states. He’s entirely too pleased with himself, honestly.

Nick just laughs, “Why?”

“Because I can,” Louis says. “And I’ve wanted to for ages. You’re bloody annoying.”

“Oh, like you’ve been a cuppa tea.” 

“I’ve got a better job squared up for me in the spring, and family to visit for the holidays. I’m here to let you know that I won’t be back and to please, send my paycheck in the mail.” Yesterday, the director he had been networking with called him with tremendous news. It appeared as though Louis had been selected for the paid internship at the National Gallery. The first thing he had done when he heard the news was cry, second was call his mum, and third was call Harry. 

They had decided to get together later to celebrate, but this morning was a busy one for the both of them. Harry has a class, and Louis has to finish telling Nick off. 

“Oh, a better job aye?” Nick rolls his eyes. “I can only imagine.”

“It  _ is  _ better. I would tell you what it is, but you’re a bloody narcissistic bastard, and I’ve no time to say anything else. Have fun with Tom, I’m sure he’s a dream.” 

“Piss off, Tomlinson.” 

“Don’t mind if I do, actually,” Louis smiles widely and waves goodbye. He receives a loving middle finger for his efforts, and he laughs all the way out the door. 

He’s in such high spirits after leaving, he decides to buy lunch for him and Harry at the quaint sandwich shop where Harry told him about her surgery. It’s a long, chilly walk, but it’s worth it in the end. He remembers their orders like it was yesterday, and luckily the shop has to-go containers. By the time he gets to Harry’s apartment, the soup needs to be reheated and Harry’s hair is up in a distracting flowered headscarf that reminds him of those old American posters… Rosie the Riveter, he thinks?  

“You brought food!” she exclaims upon opening the door.

“Must be a true party, then.”

“I’ve got plenty of tequila still if we want to make that happen,” Harry laughs and closes the door behind Louis. “Oh my God, is that from the shop we went to?”

“It is,” he smiles. “Thought it would be nice, you know.”

She takes the bag from him with a kiss on his cheek, “It’s very nice. Now, let’s eat and discuss how fucking exciting this internship is for you.”

“Want to know something funny?” Louis asks as he follows her into the kitchen. “It’s about Monet.” 

“He’s the one with the water lilies, yeah?”   

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, what’s funny?” 

“Well, it isn’t really funny per say, but it’s interesting. His dad didn’t want him to be an artist, right? He wanted him to stay in the family business and be a grocer.”

“Like, a cashier?” Harry laughs. “How ridiculous.” 

“And when Monet was older, his good friend  Clemenceau, the guy that led France into World War I, and him would write letters to one another while Clemenceau was at war. He also painted a lot of weeping willows in remembrance of the fallen French soldiers, but I like to think that there were some undertones of a mourning love.”

“Are you trying to convince me that Monet and Clemenceau were gay for each other?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

“Everyone is a little gay, come on.” 

“Do you do this with all artists?” 

“Michelangelo literally painted a ceiling full of naked men, and you’re trying to tell me that I’m the only one who considers these possibilities?” Louis argues.

“He was actually gay though, wasn't he? I remember reading that somewhere.”

“Precisely!” 

Harry just gives him that look of hers that he hasn’t quite figured out, “You’re funny.”

“I love you,” he smiles cheesily, and she smiles back.

“Love you, too. Let’s eat now, please.”

“Frida Kahlo was bisexual,” he refuses to let the topic die. 

“Louis Tomlinson was a bother sometimes,” Harry hands him his soup container and takes her own food out of the bag before tossing it in the rubbish.

“All I’m saying is…”

“Eat.”

“I thought this was a celebration of my internship at an art museum. I can discuss art.” 

“Shh, let’s be peaceful for a little while.” Harry closes her eyes as she takes a bite of her greek salad. Louis smiles at her even though she doesn’t see, and quietly eats his soup. Luckily, it’s still warm. True to her word, they stay silent until their food is finished and Harry has cleaned up their containers and tossed them out. 

It doesn’t take long for her to break the silence, laughing loudly as she tackles Louis onto the sofa. 

“I’m so proud of you,” she exclaims, pinning him down happily. “So fucking proud.”

“Thanks, Love. Can you get off me now?” 

She complies, letting him free for a few seconds so he can get comfortable before finding her spot, resting her head on his lap. “I love you so much, you know.”

“I love you so much too, you know.” Louis repeats her with a smirk. “I love you.”

Harry looks up at him curiously, “Do you realise what a fucking relief being with you is?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Well, like,” Harry sits up again, talking with her hands. “I told you when we first got together that I’m really uncomfortable with sex things right now. Anyone else would have gotten bored with me by now, I’m sure. They always did, you know? But then, you come along with your asexuality…” she waves her fingers in Louis’ direction, “ _ magic _ , and you just… you  _ stayed _ . And you haven’t complained, or cared, or tried to get me to do things I didn’t want to do. Do you realise how amazing you are for that? You’re one in a million, Lou.”

“Literally one in a million,” he thinks about it for a moment, trying to remember the exact statistic. “Well, one in one hundred, but what’s a few more zeros?” 

Harry laughs, lightly smacking his stomach, “Don’t interrupt me. I’m trying to be serious.” 

“Carry on.” 

“You ruined it now,” she huffs, faking annoyance. Louis just grins, sitting up on his elbows. Harry leans back, sighing contently and closing her eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For staying. Dammit, Lou. Were you even listening?” 

“I swear I was.”

“I’m not going to say it again if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Louis laughs, tugging at Harry’s jumper and inviting her back to his chest. “I was only teasing. But don’t thank me for something that I did for myself. I mean, I stayed for you, but because I wanted to stay. I didn’t stay as some sort of pity gesture, you know?” 

“Thank you for being you, then. Something that you can’t control, but I’ve got nobody else to thank, so shut the fuck up and take it.” She laughs. “And I mean you in your entirety, not just your sexuality. Okay? Thank you for being your whole self.” 

“Why are you being so tacky right now?” Louis breathes, because honestly, if he doesn’t lighten this conversation, he might start tearing up. 

“Because.”

“Because you love me,” he nudges her, and Harry hides her smirking face. 

“I do love you, you arsehole.”

“Aw, Harry!” Louis squeaks, rubbing his hands quickly up and down are arms, shaking her into laughter. “I love you, as well.” 

“Hey.”

“Hey, what?” 

“You should move in.”

  
  


/

  
  


“I totally trust you completely, bro.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in this,” Louis rolls his eyes as he puts the milk away.

“This is pretty soon, you know. Like… Liam and I have been together for way longer and haven’t even discussed moving in together.”

“Number one, all couples are different. Also, you haven’t been together for that much longer. Number two, you’re a liar. Want to know how I know you’re a liar? Liam has rung me consistently for the past few weeks trying to ask me how I would feel living alone. He thought he was being sneaky, but he was not. So, don’t lie about it.”

“No, but listen,” Zayn sets down his water on the table and folds his arms over his chest. “Hear me out. Do you really think this is a good idea? What if it blows up in your face? Where will you go then? If you move out, you’re right, I’ll move in with Liam. This flat won’t be here if you need it.”

“You’re so bloody pessimistic.” 

“Realistic.” 

“What if it blows up in  _ your  _ face?” Louis counters. “Where will  _ you  _ go? I’m not going to live here and pay for this place by myself. I’ll move in with Harry. She offered, quite excitedly might I add.”

Zayn shrugs. “Fair enough. If you think it’s the right thing to do, the thing you want to do, then go for it. I’ll tell Liam the good news. You talk to Harry, then call the landlord.” 

  
  


/

  
  


The room is blue. It’s not a quiet, unassuming colour, but with Harry, Louis never thought that it would be, anyway. The room is blue. Sky blue, to be exact. Bright, as if it was just recently painted. It feels like the light is on, though Louis knows it isn’t, and he can see the faint glow of stars on the ceiling from when Harry was little. The record player on the desk, the strings of photographs hanging from clothespins, the big white daybed with its crisp, clean comforter — it’s all a simple, serene version of the complicated, energetic Harry that Louis knows, and Louis is amazed.

“It’s a tad small,” her voice startles him from his trance as she tugs her luggage up the stairs behind Louis. 

“It’s very Harry,” Louis says, for lack of anything else coherent. 

“You think so?” she questions, coming up behind him and resting her chin on his shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss beneath Louis’ ear. 

“Less jumbled.”

“Hmm?” 

“It’s a less jumbled Harry, I think,” he explains. They walk further into the room, and Louis looks at all of the photographs as Harry puts her luggage on the bed. “Like your life was simpler when you were decorating.”

“Probably was simpler. I was eleven.”

“Just imagining little Harry running around, getting blue paint everywhere, because she can’t find it in herself to just sit still.”

“Rude,” Harry feigns offense. “But accurate.”

“Blue means tranquility and peace.”

“Oh, come on. It’s summer. Your internship is over. You don’t need to analyse anything with your art history-ness.”  

“Light blue, especially.” 

“Harry?” an older woman’s voice calls from downstairs, and Louis can only assume that it’s Harry’s mother. “Are you home? Did you bring Louis like we told you to?” 

“She’s very loud,” Harry whispers to Louis as her mum appears on the stairs, rushing to hug her daughter. 

“I’ve missed you since you’ve been away.”

“Mum, I’ve just been in the city,” she explains under the weight of a bone crushing hug. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“It isn’t fair, Louis’ parents getting to meet you before I met him,” Anne, if Louis is remembering her name correctly, lets go of Harry to look him up and down. “Hello, Louis. I’m Anne, Harry’s mum.”

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you finally.”

“Once you rung up our meal, don’t forget. You’ve met before,” Harry mentions with a smirk. 

“Really?” Anne asks, amazed. “How funny… The world works in strange ways, doesn’t it?”

“Truly strange.”

“Anyway, you two unpack. You’ll be here for a couple months, won’t you? Get settled. Lunch is soon, and Gemma will be over to visit as well. Oh, and Harry. Robin has some news about the surgery, times and things. You’ll want to find him at some point, I think he’s in his office.”

“Thanks, mum.”

Anne nods and heads back downstairs, most likely to fix lunch for everyone. Harry sighs contented, shoving her luggage to the side and laying down on her old bed. Louis watches her for a few moments. “Are you excited?” 

“My surgery is next week, of course I’m bloody fucking excited.” 

“But you’re scared…” Louis fills in the blanks.

“Terrified.” 

“You’ll do fine, everything will work out. I promise.” 

“You can’t promise that, and you know it,” Harry looks up at him. “So, don’t.”

“I’m sorry. Just trying to help.” 

“Lay down here with me for a little while, that’s how you can help,” she moves over so Louis has a space to put himself. It’s tight, what with the luggage at the bottom of the bed, but it’s warm. “Everything will be alright, I think.” 

“I think so, too.” 

“Everyone thinks so.” 

“Everyone knows what this means to you, and they know how qualified the surgeons are. We’re all rooting for you,” Louis says. “This is your happy ending, you know?”

“Harry finally got her vagina, and she lived happily ever after. The end,” she deadpans. They both laugh quietly, Harry traces patterns on Louis’ hand. “I’m excited to finally be at peace.” 

“How fitting. The room is blue, after all.” 

“Fuck off, art nerd.” 

“You love me.”

“Of course I fucking love you,” Harry is not having it today, her stress levels at an ultimate high. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” 

“I know that. I like reminding myself though.”

“It’s always a lovely to remember that I’m the girl Louis Tomlinson loves,” she divulges.

“I’m forever amazed that I’m the lad Harry Styles chose.”

“I’m home!” a shout from downstairs interrupts their declarations, and Harry’s face lights up.

“Gemma!” she shouts in Louis’ ear. “Come meet Louis!”

“I’ll get to him when I bloody get to him!” 

They both laugh, Harry hiding her face in Louis’ t-shirt. It’s only a matter of time before a young woman appears in the bedroom doorway, staring at the two of them with mock disgust. “You’re fucking disgusting together, you know. Too cute, it makes me want to vomit.” 

“Hey, Gem,” Harry crawls over Louis to stand and hug her sister. He watches fondly until they let go, and Gemma is back to staring at Louis, sizing him up apparently. 

“You’re small… pretty cute… Harry says you worked at the National Gallery this past spring, which is cool, but you don’t like the B-52’s, so that cancels out.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugs. 

“Are you just going to stare at him all day?” Harry interjects, and Gemma turns to flick her ear.  

“So what if I do?” 

“Just wondering,” she rubs the spot Gemma flicked with her manicured nail and rolls her eyes. “Louis, come downstairs with me. I’ve got to talk to Robin.” 

“Alright,” Louis follows Harry out of the blue room, waving goodbye to Gemma who has a knowing smile plastered on her face. Harry grabs Louis’ hand as they head downstairs, tugging him quickly around corners until they reach glass doors of a small home office. 

“Mum said you had news for me?” Harry starts, and Robin looks up with a grin.

“Well, hello Louis. It’s nice to finally meet you. A real face to a name,” Robin speaks slowly, intelligently. He’s a lawyer, Louis reminds himself.

“It’s nice to meet you, as well.” 

“News?” Harry asks again, rocking back and forth on her toes. 

“Oh, yes. I have the times for you and everything,” Robin shuffles through papers on his desk before picking up one and handing it to Harry. “All the information is on there, if you just read through it. It talks about what to do and what not to do beforehand.”

“Honey, lunch is ready,” Anne’s voice startles Louis, making him jump and turn around. She laughs at him, shaking her head. “Did I scare you? I’m terrifying, you know.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were standing there.” 

“What’s for lunch, mum?” Harry bounds out of the room, disappearing down the hall presumably to the kitchen. Louis is having trouble keeping up with her here, but it’s nice to see how relaxed and bubbly she is with her family. 

“Well, I would tell you, but you probably already know seeing as you made a mad dash for the kitchen before even finishing your question,” Anne rolls her eyes. Louis follows her down the hall to find Harry exploring the refrigerator, humming along to the song on the radio. 

“Where did you get that top?” Gemma, who is sat at the the dining room table, asks Harry.

She looks down to see what she’s wearing and looks up with a knowing smile, “Louis bought this for me, actually.” 

“Louis, where did you get that top?”

“My best friend’s sister designed it,” he explains. He remembers the day Zayn was Facetiming Doniya, and she was showing him the clothing she had designed for herself. Louis had been conveniently snooping when she held up a shirt that simply screamed Harry. 

“That’s wicked,” Gemma looks at the top again. “I love it.” 

“Children, eat your food,” Anne persists, motioning to the food she set out on the counters. 

“Sorry, mum.” 

“You’re fine love, you’re excited. I understand,” she pats Harry on her shoulder and kisses her cheek. “Maybe you could introduce Louis to Stevie after lunch?” 

“Do you want to meet our dog?” Harry asks him, and Louis nods. “Good. She’ll like you.” 

“The dog’s approval is all I ask for,” Gemma smirks. 

“The dog’s approval is probably all I’m going to get,” Louis jokes. “Dogs love everyone.” 

“Oh, not true, you know. The man I dated before marrying Robin, our dog then despised him. Rightfully so, really. He was a bastard,” Anne shakes her head as she makes herself a plate of food. 

“What about me?” Robin asks, coming up behind Anne and kissing her on the top of her head. 

“Not about you, love. About someone else, don’t worry.” 

The family is loud, and Louis finds it lovely. They’re so kind and open with one another, even with Louis.  After just a few hours spent with them, he feels like a part of the family. Gemma makes fun of him more than she pokes fun at Harry, and Anne whispers her sly comments to him as if he’s in on the jokes. The dog, Stevie, turns out to be an old golden retriever who doesn’t like to get up from wherever she’s laying.  Louis relates to her, in that regard.

Soon enough it’s dark outside, bugs are out, and Louis has found himself lying beside Harry in her childhood bed. The heat from the summer outside has gotten in, and their blankets have been shoved to the floor. The stars are easier to see out here than in the city, and he watches them from out the window. Harry is asleep, and Louis is halfway there. It’s simple and slightly sweaty, Harry’s hair sticking to Louis’ cheek where she’s cuddled close despite the temperature. 

“Harry? Love? Abigail?” he whispers in an attempt to wake her up for a moment. His arm is numb, and it’s much too hot for her to be so close to him. “Hey, psst.”

“Mmm,” she hums in his ear, still not waking up.

“Can you roll over, please? It’s bloody hot.”

“Mmm…”

“Your cheeks are burning, roll over.” he tries again, but Harry just burrows closer.  _ That’s it _ , he thinks.  _ No longer going to be fucking nice about this _ . “You asked for it.”

Louis shakes his shoulders as much as possible, jolting Harry awake before he pushes her away from him and can finally breath. “What the fuck?” she exclaims, blinking incessantly, thoroughly confused.

“Goodnight,” he says, rolling over onto his side. “Love you.”

“What the bloody hell just happened?”

“You had a bad dream, Love. Go back to sleep.”

Harry is quiet for a moment, like she’s considering it. Louis doesn’t think that she really buys it, but she doesn’t argue the point. Instead, she just sidles up behind Louis, burrowing into his back and cuddling close again. It’s so hot, and Louis is on fire, but he gives up and Harry falls asleep peacefully once more. 

  
  


/

  
  


They all wake up early the morning of Harry’s surgery, helping her pack and hugging her tightly. She’s beyond excited, going on and on about finally getting this procedure done. Everyone piles into Anne’s minivan, Harry and Louis claiming the backseat, and Harry using the opportunity to kiss Louis’ neck and whisper about her new vagina. It’s so innocent and sweet, Louis feels like his heart might explode from his love for her. 

No one is allowed in the surgery room with her. Not even Anne or Robin are allowed in, despite their adamancy. So, everyone waits patiently. Gemma has taken to napping in one of the uncomfortable chairs, Anne and Robin are pacing the halls, and Louis found a vending machine with his favorite crisps in it that keeps him well occupied. 

It’s hours before the surgery is completed, and it’s another hour or so before visitors are allowed in Harry’s hospital room. The doctor said the procedure was a success, but Harry must remain in the hospital for a few days just to be certain. She’s sleeping when Louis comes in with Anne and Gemma, so they decide to get something to eat and come back later.   

Anne is visibly relieved to see that her daughter is fine, and Louis is excited to hear how Harry feels once she’s awake and talking. Gemma has a slight panic over the possibility of Harry waking up to no one, so she volunteers to stay behind and make sure that doesn’t happen. 

They find a McDonald’s close by and decide to just go there, as it’s quick and easy. Anne isn’t too ecstatic about the idea of eating fast food, but she agrees with Louis that it will let them see Harry sooner, so. McDonald’s it is. 

By the time they’re back, Gemma has coaxed Harry awake. She’s sitting up, soft and sleepy. 

“How are you feeling?” Anne asks, setting the McDonald’s bags on one of the chairs. “Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not supposed to make any sudden movements or anything, though. Fuck,” she swears. “Did you guys get McDonalds?” 

“We did,” Louis smiles.

“I want some.” 

“No fast food for you,” Anne shakes her head, and Harry whines a little. “You know my rules.” 

“Hey, Lou,” Harry changes the subject. “Wanna see it?” 

“What?” 

“She already showed it to me,” Gemma speaks up. “It’s the first thing she bloody did. Not going to lie, it looks a little rough around the edges.”

“I have to heal, arsehole.” 

“Children, don’t fight,” Anne scolds. 

“Where’s Robin?” Harry asks, looking around the room. 

“He’ll be around shortly. He had to take a work call.” 

“Can you go find him for me?” she asks her mum. “I want to say thank you.” 

“I can find him for you, sure,” Anne nods and leaves the room. “Be back in a bit.” 

Harry watches her leave, then turns back to Louis, “Good. Now she’s gone. Wanna see it?” 

“Are you asking me if I want to look at your vagina?” 

Gemma laughs loudly, snorting and hiding her face. She buries herself in her phone, trying to look at though she isn’t fully listening to Louis and Harry’s conversation. “Yeah,” Harry says with a soft smile. “It’s a little bloody, but it’s healing, and it’s mine.” 

Louis sighs, shrugging. He promised her that he would help her get accustomed to life with her new genitalia, and this is as good a start to keeping that promise as any. “I would love to see it.” 

“Alright, I’m sort of afraid to bend over, so you’ll have to lift the sheets up for yourself.”

“Have you seen lady parts before?” Gemma asks him, and Louis looks over at her. 

“Do I look like someone who has seen lady bits before?” 

Harry laughs at that, taking a sip of the water on her side table. Louis walks around to the end of her bed, carefully lifting up the sheets. It feels too clinical too be intimate, but also far too intimate for Harry’s sister to also be in the room. “Very interesting,” he says, trying not to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“It’s mine,” Harry is quiet, proud. 

“I distinctly remember you telling me that it would be quite funny looking, did you not?” 

“Vaginas look funny,” she shrugs. “There’s no other word for it.” 

“Well, in my professional opinion,” Louis lays the sheets back down over Harry, covering her back up. “You have one cute vagina.” 

Gemma loses it, standing up and shaking her head, laughing. “I can’t handle you two right now. I’ll be back later.”  

Harry watches her leave and then looks at Louis. “You think my vagina is cute?” 

Louis sits down on the side of her bed, leaning in close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I think everything about you is cute.” 

She looks close to tears, of which Louis prays are happy ones, “I think everything about you is cute, too.” 


End file.
